


Symphony

by Despina



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Community: 7thnight_smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-24
Updated: 2010-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Despina/pseuds/Despina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the late twenty-fifth century, musician Kouryuu Sanzo obtains some undiscovered music from eighteenth century Vienna. Who was the composer? Luckily, in the twenty-fifth century, time travel is possible.  A Saiyuki AU, Written for 7th Night Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Movement - Allegro con anima

First Movement: _Allegro con anima_

After two weeks, the musical staff paper that should have contained Sanzo's latest opera remained stubbornly empty. The pages weren't even marred by notes to a bad melody. His musical block seemed to be worsening, and he was certain he knew the reason.

Sanzo gazed accusingly at the two neat stacks of parchment piled nearby and stood up. He paced the length of the music room, his fingers twitching with the need to either smoke or play as he walked past the piano, harp, cello, harpsichord, and shelves of archived music. After several turns, he came back to the table and gingerly picked up the top sheet of music.

The barely legible title read Symphony Number 47 in E flat major. The paper was heavy and coarse, and for some reason, it was speckled with rusty colored flecks, but they weren't enough to obscure any of the music. Sitting down at the piano bench, he lost himself in the prelude, absorbed in the arrangement. Within minutes, he'd memorized the scrawled notes of the first movement, and a rich, silvery resonance began to fill his head. The music successfully tapped into emotion so genuine that even Sanzo couldn't deny it. And it was--somehow--familiar.

In his head, the piano and the piccolos played a lively, teasing game of tag, and throughout the piece, Sanzo felt a genuine happiness, as if he were under an endless blue sky and running like a child though tall grass. He could almost feel the breeze on his face and smell the scent of wildflowers all around him. There was laughter behind him, a sweet, uninhibited sound of joy.

The tempo changed, and the blue over his head shifted to dark clouds that roiled and billowed. He was trapped in a cell, and there was nothing but gray in every direction, the warm sun gone. He was a prisoner, without hope of freedom.

He was desperate to get out, desperate to see the sun--

"Sanzo?"

There was a touch on his arm, and a helpless fear filled him. He lurched and spun to his feet, kicking over the piano bench and backing away, his heart thrumming in his chest like a cornered animal's.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai's hand was still hovering above the spot where Sanzo's shoulder should have been.

"Damn it, Hakkai," Sanzo managed to say once he'd caught his breath. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Hakkai raised an eyebrow. "I thought something was wrong with you. Were you sleeping?"

Sanzo shook his head. "No."

Hakkai crossed his arms. "Were you working on your opera?"

"No." Sanzo could feel the beginnings of headache. "Lately, composing is a pain in the ass."

"Ah, still dealing with your block? Well, don't despair. We've all had those moments."

"Not like this." Sanzo righted the piano bench. Once again, the papers caught his eye and he couldn't help but compare that music to his own. On those pieces of paper was magic. Sanzo had never created magic. "Everything I write is lifeless."

"Lifeless?" Hakkai tilted his head. "It's unlike you to brood."

"You're one to talk." Feeling embarrassed, Sanzo ran a hand through his hair and reached for the comfort of a cigarette.

"Sanzo," Hakkai's stare hardened, "what's happening to you? Ever since Gojyo returned from Vienna with that music, you've not been yourself."

"It's nothing." Sanzo shivered. He was holding a cigarette but couldn't light it.

Hakkai's gaze shifted to the music. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"Just drop it, Hakkai."

"Hmm."

Sanzo rolled the cigarette between his fingers. "Did you look over the list of music I gave you?"

"I did." Hakkai handed him a small notebook. "Here are my choices for this season of concerts--on paper--as you so quaintly requested. It's so hard to get, I had Gojyo bring me back a supply from the eighteenth century. Just for you. "

"Huh." Sanzo preferred paper to digital files, both for reading and writing. Hakkai and Gojyo never tired of teasing him about his attachment to a primitive way of communicating.

"Though, before I make my final decision, I would like to get a look at what you've been hoarding. Maybe there's something in there that would go well for this season."

"Hoarding? I wasn't--" Sanzo frowned and then nodded at the music. "Help yourself."

Hakkai gave Sanzo one of his annoyingly tolerant smiles and went over to the table. "Are these the ones you've gone through?"

Sanzo fought his sudden and irrational panic at Hakkai's careful touch to the paper. He swallowed. "Yes."

"I'm surprised by how many there are." Hakkai gently shuffled through the stack. He studied a few at random. "And you still don't believe they are Nataku's work?"

"No, it's not his work. At least, not all of it." Sanzo really needed to smoke, but smoking around the ancient, scripted work would be sacrilege. Lung cancer might be outdated, but smoke damage to works of art lingered on.

"Take them." Sanzo's voice was quiet and forced. "Take all of them."

Hakkai raised his head. "Are you certain? You don't look very comfortable with--"

Sanzo's patience snapped. "I said take them, damn it! I want them out of my sight."

"Well, since we both know that isn't true, I'll leave the ones you have yet to look through." Hakkai opened an expandable case and placed one pile inside. The other stack he returned to the hermetically sealed cabinet. Sanzo had to suppress an urge to grab Hakkai's case and run with it.

"Sanzo, why don't you have dinner with us tonight?"

"Why?"

"You've been rather reclusive of late." Hakkai smiled, but this time it was genuine. "I think a change of scenery would do you good. Also, I suspect you've not been eating. Am I correct?"

Sanzo didn't answer.

"Come on." Hakkai held out the case. "While I'm cooking, you can ask Gojyo more about where he found the music. I know you want to."

Fucking Hakkai; he was such a smug know-it-all. Still, Sanzo did have a few questions he'd like to ask Hakkai's perverted boyfriend. He exhaled and took the case. "All right, if it'll stop you from nagging at me."

"Oh, yes, it will." Hakkai laughed. "And I know Gojyo will be thrilled to see you."

"As long as he keeps his hands to himself."

"Must I remind you who we're talking about?" Hakkai opened the door and waved Sanzo through.

As Sanzo stepped into the hallway, he began to think of questions he wanted to ask about the mysterious composer, and the melody of Symphony Number 47 filled his head again.

 

* * *

 

Sanzo took the last bite of perfectly grilled fish, tangy with lemon and garlic. He didn't even really like fish, but Hakkai could do things with food most other people couldn't.

Of course, maybe it tasted so good because he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

"That was awesome, Hakkai," Gojyo said as he pushed his plate away. He looked at Sanzo. "You know, if you ate here more often, you might add a pound or two to that delicate frame."

"Shut up." Sanzo reached for his cigarettes as his gaze fixed on a painting hanging on the far wall. He didn't know much about art, but he thought it might be a Max Ernst piece. Contorted figures with mismatched limbs lumbered through a desolate landscape--the piece was sinister and filled with darkness, clearly something Hakkai would have picked out. Closer to him was a Mucha piece, whimsical with flowery vines and a woman with pasta-like hair. That was definitely a touch of Gojyo.

Hakkai and Gojyo's apartment was filled with warmth and color. Art decorated many of the walls, and intricate rugs covered the floors. Beautifully crafted furniture, shelves of books, and stylish lighting fixtures increased the apartment's comforting allure. And flowers. There were always several vases of flowers.

Sanzo was more into minimalism. He couldn't be bothered with rugs, paintings, furniture, and flowers. In fact, his walls and floors were completely bare. He had two chairs, a table, a bed, a piano, and his harp. There were no flowers--painted or otherwise--in his rooms.

"So." Hakkai took the empty plates the short distance to the sink and returned with an ashtray. "Didn't you have some questions for Gojyo?"

"Yeah?" Gojyo was clearly interested as he lit his own cigarette. "What about?"

Sanzo frowned but didn't speak, and Hakkai sighed with exasperation. "As it turns out, the music you brought back from Vienna has been keeping Sanzo awake at night. I think he might want some details."

"Really?" Gojyo slid his chair back and crossed his ankles. He took a long drag and smiled. "I thought you'd find the music interesting. It's amazing stuff."

Sanzo placed his elbows on the table. Despite his best effort, he leaned forward in interest and said, "Hakkai said you picked it up in Vienna?"

"Yep. I found it in Nataku's house right before it burned down."

Sanzo chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It's not Nataku's work."

"How can you tell?" Gojyo raised an eyebrow.

"There are some elements that are similar, but it's much more complex than anything Nataku did," Sanzo explained. "Also, Nataku only produced a handful of pieces in his lifetime. You saw the amount of work--do you still think that was him?"

"Maybe he was secretive about it," Gojyo said. "Not everyone likes to share."

Hakkai sat down again. "I haven't had a chance to look at it yet, but I suspect Sanzo might be correct. Especially in light of where you found it, right, Gojyo?"

Sanzo waited.

"I did find the pieces in Nataku's house, you know." Gojyo sat up and flicked his ashes into the ashtray. "They were in a secret wall compartment in a small room in the back of the house. Possibly they were servant's quarters."

"The servant's quarters?" Rusty cogs and wheels engaged in Sanzo head, turning with memories of five years prior. It couldn't be that wide-eye, irritating kid. That just didn't make any sense. "The house was empty?"

"Between owners. At the time I was there, its location wasn't considered posh, unlike when Nataku was alive." Gojyo sat back again. "Probably the reason it burned down empty. I wasn't expecting to find anything."

Sanzo inhaled deeply from his cigarette while he stared at nothing. Piano Concerto no. 9 began playing in his head.

"Oi, Sanzo!" Gojyo kicked Sanzo's foot. "Are you in there?"

Sanzo sat up. His cigarette was all but gone and there were ashes in his lap.

"Wow." Gojyo took a drink of his remaining wine. "This music has really gotten under your skin, hasn't it? I didn't know you could be rattled like this."

Sanzo put his dying cigarette out of its misery. "I'm not rattled."

Hakkai crossed his arms. "You know, Sanzo, if you were truly curious, you could go there yourself."

"Eighteenth century Vienna?" Sanzo shook his head. "I don't think so. I spent enough time in Vienna during my internship; I have no desire to see it ever again." Sanzo remembered the coal-colored sky, the sewer smell, and the overall discomfort. There was the devastating poverty and disease so rampant that seeing a fortieth birthday was something of a miracle. And that was in the upper and middle classes.

"I suppose that there's also the possibility that you wouldn't be allowed to go. Not after last time." Hakkai smiled.

Sanzo picked up his wine glass and drained it.

Gojyo looked at Sanzo and then Hakkai with obvious interest. "What happened? Did the princess break the rules?"

"He did."

"Yeah?" Gojyo laughed. "What did you do? Get caught with a gentleman's daughter?"

"No."

"Oh, please tell me it was a gentlemen's son." Gojyo was still laughing.

"I'm not you." Sanzo held up his empty glass, and Hakkai got up. "It was nothing."

"Sanzo," Hakkai began as he refilled Sanzo's glass, "you left your notebook."

"His notebook?" Gojyo said, his eyes wide. "You mean like, paper?"

"Yes, you idiot," Sanzo snapped. "A notebook. Like paper."

Gojyo rolled his eyes. "Oh, man, I thought this would be an interesting story. Only Sanzo could get in trouble over something so lame. What's with you and paper, anyway?"

"I think you're missing the point, Gojyo," Hakkai said. "A modern notebook was left in eighteenth century Vienna. You know that's not acceptable."

"Well, for a story about breaking the rules, it's pretty boring. I don't know why you don't just go with the nano implants like a normal person." Gojyo's smile was smug.

"I don't like robots running around inside me." Sanzo lit another cigarette. "Besides, the notebook wouldn't work for anyone but me. That's the point of those electronic safeguards. If one of the locals did pick it up, it would look and act like paper they're familiar with."

Gojyo sat back again. "Yeah, chances are they would have probably burned it to keep warm in the winter."

"Well, yes, but …" Hakkai frowned.

"Hakkai, you know those rules are made by people who never travel." Gojyo patted Hakkai's leg. "Yeah, we shouldn't leave electronics behind, but sometime shit just happens."

"Have _you_ ever left something behind?" Hakkai asked.

"Nope," Gojyo answered. "But I don't ever take anything out of the safe house. And I have nano implants."

"Shut up." Sanzo drummed his thumb on the table, annoyed by Gojyo's needling and wondering if that silly moment of carelessness five years earlier would cause him problems. No. There wouldn't be problems because he wasn't going back.

Hakkai was watching him. "You know, I believe they would let you go if you--"

"Forget it." Sanzo took a deep drag. "I wouldn't even know where to start looking."

"Well, you did get some good music, right?" Gojyo scratched the back of his head. "Next time I go, I'll ask around and see if I can--"

"No." Sanzo crushed out his cigarette. He stood up and walked toward the door.

"Are you leaving?" Hakkai asked.

"Yes." Sanzo opened the door.

"But--"

Sanzo said, "Thanks for dinner."

"Wait--"

He closed the door.

He didn't go home. Instead, he followed the tunnel back to the University. Inside his music room, he poured himself a drink and sat down at the piano. The empty staff paper was still there, a taunting reminder of his failure. He set his glass down and pressed his hands against his eyes.

"This is fucking stupid." After draining his glass of scotch, he got up. He opened the cabinet and removed the music from Vienna. He sealed it in a protective casing, and packed it in a box for shipping to the University archives the next day.

Then he went home. With the box.

 

* * *

 

Sanzo sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding.

"Lights," he managed to say as he ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. Low blue-white light blinked to life.

This was ridiculous. A little more than three weeks had passed since the music had come into his possession, and he had yet to get a decent night's sleep. He glared at the sealed box on the table near his bed. It was almost as if the music inside was calling to him.

Maybe he was going crazy.

He got up and stumbled into the kitchen. After a drink of water and a few deep breaths, he was feeling centered again. With his water glass still in hand, he turned and stared at the table. The box was in the very same place it had been a week earlier. He'd tried to ignore it and keep his mind free, focusing on the upcoming season, picking the correct arrangements, and contacting guest musicians. But the melodies from the unknown composer kept at him, filling his head and tempting him back to the treasure of previously undiscovered music. The music also lured him back to the mystery of who the composer might have been. Whoever it was, he was exceptional. Even in the time of Haydn--maybe especially then--people musically gifted didn't remain in obscurity.

Sanzo frowned at the container. "Whoever you were, you're managing to bug the fuck out of me six centuries after your death."

He sat down at the table and carefully opened the box, lifting out the protective case. After breaking the archival seal, he removed the bundle. He regarded the stack of music, realizing that somehow, he'd lost to a pile of paper. A dead, unknown composer had killed his music.

And he was furious about it. Sure, his music might not be as good as the dead man's, but it was his and he wanted it back. The problem was he didn't know how to go about it.

"Fuck," he muttered.

With a frown, he slid several pages off the top--the music he'd already seen. He'd decided to learn the composer's style and flow, perhaps he could emulate it, or someday, even best it. He picked up the next piece--it was the second movement. As he stared at the paper, the chords immediately began to fill his head. He was absorbed, experiencing the score the way he'd never experienced music before. His eyelids fluttered, and he was drifting with the high that only truly exceptional music could give him. As he teetered on the edge of fugue, he caught the hazy image of something from under his lashes. Something familiar. The music in his head abruptly fell silent.

He sat up straight as the loud silence was replaced by the thudding of his heart. He set down the score in his hand and slowly, carefully picked up the next sheet of bright white paper. The music was pure and clean, heartbreaking and filled with a sad longing. But the powerful concerto was not what had caught Sanzo's attention.

His mistake five years earlier was possibly more serious than he'd thought. He repacked the music and dressed. He needed to talk to someone.

 

* * *

 

Sanzo navigated down the windowless, sterile hallways of the music compound. The halls were deserted and eerily quiet. But when he arrived at Hakkai and Gojyo's apartment, he paused, hearing the impeccably played notes of the unknown composer--Cello Suite No. 3 in D minor.

He knew it was Gojyo playing the hauntingly beautiful melody. Leaning against the door, Sanzo let his head roll back and his vision blur, losing himself to the Suite. There was loneliness in the music, a helpless emptiness that matched his own. He clutched his fingers harder around the music-filled case and wondered once again what the hell was happening to him.

When the last of the cello notes faded, he lifted his hand and pounded on the door.

Thirty seconds later, just as he raised his hand to knock a second time, Gojyo's voice projected around him. "Yeah?"

Sanzo frowned. "I'm here to see Hakkai."

"Do you know what time it is?" Gojyo sounded amused.

"Just open the fucking door."

"Hold your horses." The door opened and a barefoot, shirtless Gojyo stood there holding a bow. "What's up, your maestroship?"

"Shut up." Sanzo pushed past Gojyo. "Get Hakkai."

Gojyo darted around Sanzo and blocked his path. He waved the bow at Sanzo. "Not now, he's sleeping. It's four o'clock in the morning, Sanzo. Everyone in the world is sleeping right now."

Sanzo sneered. "What about you? You weren't sleeping."

Gojyo shrugged. "Sometimes I don't."

"You?" Sanzo made a dismissive noise. "You've never struck me as the insomniac type."

"A leftover from my childhood, I think. I tend to sleep very lightly--worried about being snatched during the night for the misdeed of being born. Or something. Don't you ever have nightmares of your past?"

Images of blood and the sounds of screams filled Sanzo's head. He shook his head. "No."

"Uh-huh." Gojyo padded toward the kitchen. "Want some coffee?"

"Whatever." Sanzo sat down and pulled out his cigarettes.

He focused his attention on a nearby tapestry, and the new music filled his imagination, flute and harp this time. On the wall, he could see the Greek god Pan as he played a set of pipes in a lush, wooded land. Around the satyr were several men and women in various states of ecstasy. The piece was erotic, explicitly so, and Sanzo suspected Gojyo had picked out that particular tapestry. And yet, it hung in _their_ apartment, meaning Hakkai agreed to it. Was that what sharing your life with someone was like?

His cigarette was half gone when Gojyo returned with two cups of coffee.

Gojyo settled into a chair across the table. After watching him for a couple of minutes, Gojyo asked, "So, what's on your mind?"

Sanzo took a drink of his coffee but didn't answer.

"Fine, you closemouthed bastard." Gojyo lit a cigarette of his own. "Then I'll tell you why you're here."

Sanzo snorted.

"It's the music." Gojyo shifted his shoulders deep into the fabric of the chair. "The music's keeping you awake at night, isn't it? And you can't resist it anymore. You want to go back, don't you? To Vienna?"

Sanzo _tch_ ed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny it. In fact, he was annoyed that he was so readable.

Gojyo grinned. "You know, I hate to admit it, but I'm feeling the same way."

Sanzo clenched his jaw. "What?"

"Well, this mystery is bugging the fuck out of me, too. I've looked over some of the pieces and they're--well, they're fucking fantastic, and that's a lame description. I took a crack at some of them with my cello, and you know, that's some powerful stuff--like Bach and Mozart ran into each other at full speed."

Once again, Sanzo agreed but kept his mouth shut. Gojyo had a good ear for music, though Sanzo would take his observation to the grave.

Gojyo slowly released a stream of smoke from between his lips, looking deep in thought. When the smoke was gone, he said, "What I don't get is how this guy--assuming it was a man--remained unknown."

"I believe Gojyo is correct."

Sanzo looked over his shoulder to see a slightly disheveled Hakkai still in his pajamas.

Gojyo got up. "I'll get you some coffee."

"Thank you, Gojyo." Hakkai sat down and stared at Sanzo. "So, I take it you've changed your mind about going to Vienna?"

Sanzo opened the case and handed Hakkai the symphony he had been looking at earlier.

"Ah," Hakkai said as he accepted the paper and studied it, turning it carefully. "I see. Extraordinary."

Gojyo returned and handed Hakkai a cup of coffee. He frowned as he stared at the music. "Hey, that's not vellum or parchment. That's modern paper. Does that mean--"

"It's paper from my notebook." Sanzo exhaled the tension he'd been holding.

Hakkai raised his head, his penetrating stare boring into Sanzo. "Then, you know who wrote the music, don't you?"

"I know who had the notebook," Sanzo corrected him. "That doesn't mean it's the same person who wrote the music."

"Yes." Hakkai covered his mouth as he yawned. "I suppose that's true. But you still know, don't you?"

"Maybe," Sanzo said.

Gojyo asked, "Was it during your internship?"

"Yes. I met a servant there."

"A servant? If you knew that, why didn't you tell us before?" Gojyo said. "So, mystery solved, thanks to Mr. Secretive."

"Not necessarily, Gojyo." After a moment, Hakkai added, "Our composer was definitely educated, so if he was a servant, that brings up a few other questions. What can you tell us about him, Sanzo?"

Sanzo's lips twitched into an almost-smile with the only fond memories he had of his stay in Vienna. "It was because of his education that I didn't realize he was a servant until later. Apparently, his family had fallen on hard times or something. I never asked."

"And you befriended him?" Hakkai sipped his coffee, looking over the rim of his glasses.

"He was a pushy, nosy little bastard who followed me around asking questions nonstop until I would threaten him--trying to get him to leave me alone. But it never worked." Sanzo rubbed a hand over his eyes; he was suddenly very tired. "One day, I heard him playing a pianoforte in the music room, and he was--" Sanzo remembered the pure pleasure at hearing Goku play; there was no way he could explain what he had experienced that day.

"He was … what?" Gojyo asked.

Sanzo changed the subject. "When he saw me, he blathered on and on about what a beating he would get if anyone found out."

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Gojyo frowned. "That's got to be him."

"That was the only time I heard him play like that," Sanzo said. "All the other times he was like Nataku, sour notes and clumsy with tempo. In the end, I'd decided I'd imagined the whole thing."

"Do you think he tricked you?" Hakkai said.

Sanzo glared at Hakkai. "He used to pester me for lessons."

"And because he was such a pest, you gave him your notebook?" Hakkai's voice had a teasing tone.

"I did. He was so annoying about it." Sanzo sat up and touched the paper again. "I had no idea he was capable of this."

Gojyo watched him closely. "Hey, are you--"

Sanzo stood up. "I'll be seeing Koumyou in the morning."

Hakkai crossed his legs. "You'll be going back, then?"

"Yes. And with both of you," Sanzo said.

"Sanzo," Hakkai set his cup down, "they'll never allow me to go."

"They will." Sanzo stared at Hakkai. "There's no slavery in eighteenth century Vienna."

"No slavery, but there are servants and the abject poor." Hakkai sighed. "I'm banned from any kind of traveling. You know that."

Sanzo returned the music to the case. "Suit yourself."

"I would, but I--" A shadow crossed Hakkai's features.

"I don't want Hakkai to be put in that situation again. It's too much to ask." Gojyo scowled at Sanzo. "He can help us from here."

Sanzo ignored Gojyo. "His name was Goku. Goku Son. See if you can find out any information about him."

"I've been studying the music," Hakkai said. "The way you've been working through the stack is backwards, leading me to the conclusion that this page--written on the paper from your notebook--is much earlier work. How old was he when you gave him the notebook?"

"I don't know." Sanzo furrowed his brow. "Teenaged. Maybe thirteen."

"Really?" Gojyo laughed. "Pervert."

"I'm tired." Sanzo picked up the case and walked toward the door. "I'll talk to you after I've seen Koumyou, Hakkai."

Sanzo closed the door behind him and walked back to his drab, colorless apartment.

 

* * *

 

Sanzo did see Koumyou. And after reviewing a few sheets of the music, Koumyou agreed to meet with the council on Sanzo's behalf. And two weeks after his early morning visit to Gojyo and Hakkai's, Koumyou summoned Sanzo to give him the council's answer.

As Sanzo stepped over and through the piles of books, musical scores, and general clutter, he saw Koumyou sitting in his usual spot on the comfortably worn chair, his usual bottle of sake on the table next to him. He held up a copy of one of the found pieces. "This is amazing stuff, and I'm quite envious of his composing skill. I can see why you want to go to Vienna to find this fellow."

"Yes." Sanzo didn't add that he harbored a slight bit of envy himself.

"The council was convinced about the music and the composer," Koumyou said. "It's you they're unsure about."

Sanzo asked, "Are they sending someone else?"

"There was some discussion about that."

"If they do," Sanzo ground his teeth and continued, "they'll need to take Gojyo. He found the work."

Koumyou sipped his sake.

The room fell silent and Sanzo waited. Koumyou was not a man you could rush.

Koumyou leaned forward, his long braid falling over one shoulder. "You look tired, Kouryuu. Is the music calling to you?"

Sanzo started. "What?"

"Is it filling your head and keeping you awake at night?" Koumyou looked amused.

Sanzo shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes."

"Hmm, is that so? Marvelous." Koumyou got up and rummaged through a drawer in his kitchen. He returned with another sake cup. After filling it, he handed the cup to Sanzo. "That's good. Then I suppose you should go to Vienna."

"The council--"

"Oh, they have approved your travel after a long and tedious discussion. Also, you'll be head conductor soon, and with that title comes with responsibility and a little latitude." Koumyou drained his cup.

Sanzo stared at Koumyou and said, "I'm not head conductor yet."

"No." Koumyou poured more sake. "But soon."

"Huh. I know you." Sanzo drained the cup in front of him. "You won't give it up. Not yet."

"Ah, you don't understand. A conductor hears only mistakes and possibilities; the music becomes drab notes on paper." Koumyou sighed. "I find that conducting is injuring my love for music. I'll have to give it up soon. Perhaps I'll be offered the position of music director."

Sanzo didn't buy it--not completely-- but he didn't argue. Koumyou had been giving him more responsibilities of late.

"Besides, you're perfectly correct--we do need to know about his composer. And it seems that someone important was paying attention since the final approval for your travel came from very high up."

"How soon?" Sanzo's thoughts began processing what he needed to do.

"What's your hurry?" Koumyou asked. "That's the nice thing about being on this side of time--you don't need to rush."

Sanzo didn't answer.

Koumyou picked up the symphony again. "Extraordinary--I think this will truly be the experience of a lifetime for you. Be sure to make the most of it."

"I'm taking Hakkai with me," Sanzo said as he stood up.

"Yes, yes. That's fine." Koumyou's eyes glazed as he stared at the music. For a moment, Sanzo was sure Koumyou hadn't heard him. "Just don't let him go berserk and kill anyone."

"That's what Gojyo's for." Sanzo walked to the door.

"Kouryuu."

Sanzo looked over his shoulder. "Yes."

"Never mind," Koumyou said. "You'll know what to do."

"Huh," Sanzo muttered as he left the apartment.


	2. Second Movement - Andante lusingando

Second Movement: _Andante lusingando_

The red wooden heels of Sanzo's shoes made an annoying clacking sound as he walked through the compound hallways and toward the transports. The ties to his silk above-the-knee hose bit uncomfortably into his flesh, and his triangular-fastening breeches felt unnaturally drafty. The lacey cravat around his neck itched and the frilly sleeves of his puffy shirt got in his way. He didn't even want to think about the white powder in his hair.

He stopped in front of the transport entrance and glared at the door. "Kouryuu Sanzo."

The door parted as a friendly, disembodied voice greeted him. "Welcome, Kouryuu Sanzo. Your party is assembled at area C."

Sanzo grunted his acknowledgment and followed the directional lights on the floor. The walk turned out to be rather lengthy, and during his journey, he passed several of the Transport engineering crew. Transport was a busy job, and while Sanzo appreciated their work, he was glad he wasn't part of their clan. The individuality of the music clan suited him much more.

The doors to area C opened. If Sanzo were an expressive man, his first reaction upon seeing Hakkai and Gojyo in lace, silk, and brocade would've been to laugh. Unfortunately, the fact that he matched them in attire managed to drain all the humor away.

Instead, he grumbled, "I hate wearing this crap."

"Well," Hakkai said. He was tying up Gojyo's hair with a big, black ribbon, "the clothing is rather elaborate, isn't it?"

Gojyo shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

"Used to the eighteenth century?" Sanzo wrinkled his nose. "Smallpox, bad hygiene, and the eye-watering smell? I don't think so."

"Well, at least you look the part." Gojyo's eyes traveled over Sanzo. "Very sexy."

"Gojyo." Hakkai's voice sounded clipped as he pulled on the ribbon and Gojyo's hair.

"What?" Gojyo grinned and winked at Sanzo. "He is sexy. But not as sexy as you, of course."

Sanzo felt his blood pressure rising. "Why are you wearing a wig, Hakkai? I thought wigs were out of fashion in the time we're going."

"Gojyo insisted. He didn't like the way I had my hair," Hakkai said without expression.

Gojyo started to laugh. "Yeah, I think he mixed up the 1780s with 1980s. Right now, his hair is long in the back and short on the sides. That style will never fly in the eighteenth century."

"The wig is only temporary." Hakkai frowned as he tugged hard enough on Gojyo's hair to make him yelp. "It should be fine in a couple of days now that I have the hair nanos."

"Speaking of which," Gojyo turned his grin on Sanzo, "did you get your nanos in place?"

"I did." Sanzo didn't add that the nano injection was a requirement for him to go.

"Did you get the olfactory suppression?" Gojyo was still sporting that irritating smile.

"No, only what they insisted on." He'd been given illness resistance, auditory enhancement, historical references, language augmentation, and memory save. The invasive little bugs would force him to avoid danger, know more than he wanted to, and to use too many words. Sanzo tried to suppress his shiver. "As few as possible."

"It's not too late." Gojyo rubbed at his scalp. "You should ask for it."

"No."

"I think you'll be sorry when you get a whiff of the _eye-watering smell_ again," Gojyo said.

Sanzo grimaced, remembering the stench. But he also knew, remembering his last visit, that he'd get used to it. Maybe. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Hakkai, did you find anything out about Goku?"

"I did." Hakkai's long fingers shifted his wig into place. "I couldn't find any record of birth, but he was an illegitimate son of a Baron von Touten. His father died in 1782, and Goku's financial support died with him. He was summarily kicked out of boarding school, and his only option was to live with his father's brother, the new Baron and the only family he had. As you know, in those days, that meant servitude."

"That makes sense. He did know how to read, write, and play, but he was definitely a servant." Sanzo chewed on his bottom lip. "What else?"

"That's all I could find, Sanzo." Hakkai straightened his green brocade jacket. "The records on servants were sketchy at best."

Sanzo rubbed his fingers together. "My stay in Vienna was in 1784. I thought he was a young teenager, but for all I know, he could've been ten."

"Yes." Hakkai nodded. "Gojyo picked up the music in 1805 from an empty house, and we know Nataku was already gone by then. We're headed for 1789."

"Why 1789?"

"It's a date I can't resist." Hakkai gave Sanzo an eerie smile.

"You know we aren't going to France, right?" Sanzo glared.

"Yes, I know. I assure you my date is based on simple calculations." Hakkai smoothed down his lacy collar. "Nataku moved to the country in 1790. I suspect that's a good place to start. We can work backward from there if we need to."

"There was a lot of tension everywhere in Europe during 1789," Gojyo said as he tugged on his hose. "Especially for the upper class--although in spite of Marie Antoinette's rolling head--it remained relatively quiet in Vienna."

"The historical nanos must have told you that," Sanzo said.

"What?" Gojyo stepped face-to-face with Sanzo. "Why, you--"

"Departure in thirty seconds," the computer said.

"Are we all ready?" Hakkai said.

"As I'll ever be," Sanzo muttered.

"You'll be happy to know that I brought snuff." Gojyo slapped Sanzo on his back.

Sanzo opened his mouth to complain when his vision blurred and the room shifted--swirling as if he were inside a tornado--not that he'd ever been inside a tornado. But he had suffered through transport before. Too late, he remembered the gut-wrenching motion that came with time-travel. Seconds later, they were on the transport platform in the safe house. When the room quit moving; Sanzo fell to his hands and knees and lost what little contents he had in his stomach.

"So--" Hakkai knelt next to Sanzo, handing him a handkerchief. "I assume you refused the travel sickness nanos, also."

Sanzo took the handkerchief as he gagged and then swallowed hard.

"Are you all right?" Hakkai helped him stand.

"Yes." Sanzo smoothed out his jacket and was happy to find that his cravat had avoided damage. He glanced around the room. "I don't remember this place."

"You shouldn't. We're in a transport house outside Vienna," Hakkai explained. "We'll travel the rest of the way in a carriage to make our grand entrance into town."

"Carriage?" Sanzo groaned at the thought of a bouncing carriage ride.

"You're green-- you aren't going to puke all the way to Vienna, are you?" Gojyo rummaged through a wooden chest that had made the journey with them. He set a small packet on a table near Sanzo. "Here, that should help settle your stomach. Don't be stubborn about it because I'm not cleaning up after you."

Sanzo opened the packet. He slid the wafer onto his tongue and fought a gag as it melted. His stomach lurched at the mild medicinal taste. He would definitely need some time to acclimate before visiting Vienna's upper crust. Then again, maybe he'd just send Gojyo.

"Come on." Hakkai took his arm and led him toward the exit.

"Let me guess," Sanzo managed to say with his thick tongue, "you had directional nanos installed?"

"Ah ha ha, why yes," Hakkai answered. "Gojyo insisted on that and a few others."

Sanzo could only imagine how many nanos were racing through Hakkai. Sanzo was certain that harsh behavioral nanos would've been included. If they were victims of an unlikely attack, Hakkai would be nearly helpless. Sanzo felt a pang of guilt for insisting on Hakkai's presence. But then he shook off his ridiculous thoughts--Hakkai would've been far more passive-aggressive if he hadn't wanted to go. Of course, Sanzo also wouldn't put it past Gojyo to secure some slick, black market nanos for the safety of his companion.

They stepped outside into air that was crisp and cold, helping to clear Sanzo's head. An elaborate carriage waited for them, and the three of them clambered inside. The coach started to roll just as the medication took effect and Sanzo thankfully nodded off.

 

* * *

 

Goku had been brilliant with life and whenever he'd seen Sanzo, he'd grinned from ear to ear. Sanzo hadn't known how to deal with Goku's exuberance. He was everything Sanzo wasn't: positive and cheerful, artless and kind. And for whatever reason, Goku had turned out to be very attached to Sanzo.

And Sanzo had left him. One day, when Sanzo's studies were finished, he'd told Goku he was leaving. That had been one of the worst days of Sanzo's life. Goku had pleaded to go with him, offering first to be his manservant, and later to be his under gardener, and finally--with desperation--to be his chambermaid. But what could Sanzo do? It wasn't as if he actually belonged in eighteenth century Vienna and he hadn't had the option of taking Goku with him.

So he'd left Goku, telling him they'd never meet again. Goku had been heartbroken and angry. It would be very surprising if Goku would have anything to do with him now.

The thought of that noisy, clumsy brat creating all that beautiful and complicated music still made Sanzo's head spin. Goku had asked Sanzo to instruct him in music. And Sanzo had blindly, no make that _foolishly_ \--attempted to "teach" a master--how to improve his harpsichord playing. The little rat bastard had tricked him and pretended to be something he wasn't, and now Sanzo felt like he'd been played.

Then again, maybe they'd only succeeded in tricking one another.

Sanzo opened his eyes. His nausea had faded and he was actually feeling a bit hungry. He sat up, and his clothes pulled at odd angles. One stocking was bunched around an ankle, and his linen jacket and breeches were covered with wrinkles.

"Screw it." He got up, secured his stocking, and took note of his surroundings.

This room in the safe house was modern. He would seek refuge from eighteenth century Vienna and make his reports to Koumyou from this room. It also had running water. Sanzo rinsed off his face, brushed his teeth, slid his feet into his uncomfortable shoes, and went in search of Hakkai.

A series of doors parted, and he left the hidden portion of the house.

Two servants dressed in a plain blue and cream livery nodded at him as they passed. The "servants" in this portion of the house were all transport operatives, working to keep the facility running smoothly. The secret inner part of the building was computerized, taking down large, boring bits of historical information and relaying it back to the twenty-fifth century. The house itself was set for deconstruction in a few years, right before a fire would burn it down. After that, Transport would move on to another house, have another "master," and the business of gathering boring bits of history would continue.

Sanzo had noticed the embroidered sun on the servant's lapels. He'd picked the design out during his last visit as his house emblem. At the time, it had been little more than a whim, but then he'd met that crazy Goku with the big eyes who'd latched on to the symbol--referring to Sanzo as Sir Sun.

In the outer part of the house, the actual servants would be from the Acting clan. They felt living life in the past was a way to solidify their experiences for stage. Sanzo didn't understand it, but they did cook and clean, and if "Sir Saurma" were forced to entertain, the Acting clan could manage to make it work.

Sanzo took a couple of wrong turns before he remembered the layout of the house. He found Hakkai and Gojyo in a sitting room with loud rococo decorations, gilded candlesticks, elaborately framed paintings, and furniture with legs so spindly that Sanzo wondered how they held any weight. In a nearly daily mantra, he once again considered how ridiculous human beings were.

"Ah, you're alive." Hakkai was pouring a tea from a teapot decorated with fussy angles and colorful flowers. "But you do look as though you've slept in your clothes."

"Huh." Sanzo sat down and searched for a cigarette.

Gojyo handed him a loaded pipe. "That's as close to cigarettes as you get. Unless you go back to the safe room."

"What difference does it make? No one can see us right now." Sanzo snatched the pipe away and lit it.

"Rules, Sanzo," Hakkai chided. "We've only been here a few hours and you already want to break them."

Sanzo felt nicotine calm begin. He turned toward Gojyo. "Have you been out yet?"

"Yes." Gojyo sucked on his own pipe. "Mozart's out of town, Austria's currently at war with Turkey, and it's a rough time for musicians."

Sanzo waited.

"We're invited to Baron von Touten's for dinner on Thursday. To dine with Count Hohenberg."

Sanzo stifled a groan, knowing how the language nanos would turn him into a gentleman and force him to speak in the polite, stilted eighteenth century cadence. It would take him ten minutes to complete a greeting with those damn nanos in charge. Thursday night would be a pain in the ass.

Hakkai raised an eyebrow. " _Count_ Hohenberg? Well, there's some noble firepower."

"Yeah. The Count's in town, and he's visiting his cousin--you know, this von Touten fellow." Gojyo looked overly pleased with himself.

"That was a quick invitation," Sanzo said.

Gojyo shrugged. "I just visited a few of the bigger houses to drop off our cards. On my way back, a servant stopped me and asked me to come back to the Baron's house. Count Hohenberg invited me himself."

Sanzo sucked on the pipe. "What did the servant look like?"

"Oh, he was short and had big golden eyes. Cute." Gojyo leaned forward. "Was that our boy?"

 _Our?_ Sanzo's eye twitched and he exhaled pipe smoke. "Thursday, huh?"

"Apparently Haydn will be there."

"Haydn and a Count?" Hakkai picked up his cup of tea. "I suppose we'll need formal attire."

"And, um," Gojyo poured himself a cup of tea, "there's one more thing I need to tell you, and I think it'll make you mad."

Sanzo had a bad feeling about this. "What?"

"They're expecting us to perform something."

Hakkai exhaled. "Gojyo, we aren't prepared for that."

"I know! Trust me, I explained that," Gojyo said. "But it's not like you can argue with royalty, you know. Everyone frowns at you--and sometimes you get your ass thrown into irons over it. Have you been in an eighteenth century jail, Hakkai?"

"I suppose you have a point." Hakkai set down his cup of tea and narrowed his eyes. "Have you been in an eighteenth century jail, Gojyo?"

Gojyo cleared his throat. "Well, maybe we should pick out some music, eh, Sanzo?"

"Fuck." Sanzo glared at them and thought--briefly--that perhaps he should've had additional memory nanos installed--loaded with music. "Bach? Salieri? Mozart was--"

"Don't you think the Count will be expecting an original piece?" Gojyo asked as he stretched out his legs.

Sanzo chewed on his lip. "Yes. We'll have to do something they wouldn't know."

"But I suppose that means we could do any piece that was written a hundred years from now forward and no one would know the difference," Gojyo added.

Sanzo thought about that. "Yeah."

"Or," Hakkai picked up his cup of tea again, "we could do some of your pieces, Sanzo."

"No." Sanzo answered.

"No?" Gojyo leaned an elbow on the table. "Why not?"

Sanzo thought of playing something of his in front of Goku. "No."

"Hmm." Hakkai watched Sanzo. "Then what about something by Koumyou?"

Sanzo nodded. "That would work." He would need to get copies of the music from the computer.

"Maybe we should practice, then?" Gojyo asked. "Because I'm a little rusty on Koumyou's pieces."

"I'd be up for a bit of practice." Hakkai stood and headed toward the music room. "I'd prefer his oboe piece."

"Yeah, I like that one, too," Gojyo said as he followed.

Sanzo got to his feet. He could definitely use some time with a harpsichord, though at the moment, he would prefer some soothing time with a harp. He flexed his fingers, wondering when he'd started to second-guess his musical skills. Then he remembered the wonderful pieces sitting on his piano at home.

"Fucking Goku," he grumbled.

 

* * *

 

The Thursday dinner was of pheasant and pork, potatoes, and bread, finishing with strudel and various other sweet baked goods. The food was flavorful but the evening was a tedious affair. Sanzo related long-winded and fabricated tales from his memory nanos about his travels over the past five years. Luckily, there were other guests expected to do the same. Sanzo tried to watch and listen intently to Joseph Haydn's adventures with Mozart and various other promising musicians, but he was distracted. He realized that he was searching for Goku.

"Will do us the honor of playing for us now, Sir Saurma?" Haydn's eyes were bright with excitement. "I've heard much of your skill and am looking forward to hearing it."

Sanzo's nanos forced him to smile. "The Count does us great honor by asking. We hope we do not disappoint."

Sanzo stood and walked toward the instruments, Gojyo and Hakkai joining him. After they were situated, Gojyo started a playful motif on his cello. Hakkai waited a few bars and then followed, curling the oboe's sound in and around the cello's melody. Sanzo's harpsichord was last, joining with the oboe first before switching to play with the cello. Their beginning was rough, but the music calmed Sanzo and he concentrated, hearing the same relief and confidence flow from Hakkai and Gojyo. They played several pieces, some quieter than others, but the crowd of twenty or thirty people were appreciatively enthusiastic.

For the last song in their performance, they played a concerto written by Joseph Haydn, and Haydn joined them with his violin. During the piece, Sanzo saw a flutter of motion beyond the seated audience. He watched the spot, a curtained doorway directly across the room from the musicians. After a moment, he saw Goku peeking through the thick falls of fabric. Sanzo's fingers faltered with surprise and he missed a few notes. Goku stood frozen in place, returning Sanzo's stare. And during their brief exchange of gazes, music somehow became secondary in Sanzo's life.

Another servant appeared and whispered in Goku's ear. Goku nodded and started to turn but just before he disappeared behind the curtain, he gave Sanzo one of his stunning smiles.

The concerto ended, and once again, Sanzo was forced to engage in conversation with the rest of the party for half an hour, until Haydn and some of the local musicians would entertain. After a few half-hearted discussions, Sanzo took advantage of the break and ducked out, roaming the halls in hope of finding Goku. As he walked, his shoes tapped an echoing staccato sound on the marble floors, immediately, his head filled with one of Goku's melodies.

He wasn't sure how long he walked, but when he came back to himself, he was at an intersection of hallways. He stopped with the realization that he hopelessly lost and completely alone. And to annoy him further, his left hose had started to slide down his leg. Sanzo sighed heavily and retrieved his snuffbox, inhaling the nicotine. When his irritation at being lost ebbed, he leaned over and unbuckled the leg on his breeches, preparing to fix his hose while he considered which path to follow.

"Are you looking for me, perhaps?"

Sanzo knew that voice. He straightened up to see a grinning Goku. "Huh."

"Ah, you remember me." Goku bowed his head. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't be foolish, of course I remember you."

"And I remember you. Indeed, how could I not?" Goku was still smiling. "I am very happy to see you again, sir."

Sanzo wanted to tell him to stop with the "sir" nonsense but instead, what came out was, "I hope you still play the pianoforte."

Goku glanced down one of the hallways. "No sir, I am not allowed."

"Not allowed? Why ever not?" Sanzo could see that there was something a little off with Goku--he was a bit too sedate. Perhaps he was still angry at Sanzo's abrupt departure. "Your playing was exceptional and better than you let on, I expect."

Goku's face clouded over. "Thank you, sir, but I fear your memory must have played a trick on you. My skills were very poor, and I have since given up hope. I assure you, I no longer play any instrument."

"Why not?" Sanzo furrowed his brow. "It cannot be because you are a servant. Vienna allows servants to play, especially one with your talent."

"My situation is complicated, sir," Goku said. "And I should not be discussing it."

Sanzo filed away Goku's words as he changed the subject. "What's become of your companion? The Baron's son? I know the two of you were very close."

"The Baron's son was married off and now lives in Graz." Goku stared at him. "It was a good match for the son of a Baron--his wife is wealthy and of noble birth."

"I see," Sanzo said.

Goku placed his hands behind his back. "I knew you would come back. Nataku said not, but I knew you would."

"What made you so certain?" Sanzo said, wishing that he'd brought his pipe.

"I could not say; perhaps it was simply that I wished it." Goku rocked onto his toes. "But I felt you would be back someday."

"I hope you made good use of my notebook." Sanzo kept his features neutral.

Goku started. "I did."

"Good."

"I would like to say, sir, that the time you and I spent together five years ago was the happiest time in my life," Goku said. "Thank you for that."

Sanzo's head filled with Goku's Symphony 39 in E-Flat major. "Goku, I am not here--" he began.

"Now, allow me to help you with your hose." Goku dropped to his knees and folded up the unbuckled left leg of Sanzo's breeches.

Sanzo would have stopped him, but the shock of Goku's fingers on his leg made his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth. A physical reaction was not something Sanzo had expected and it hit him with dizzying surprise.

Slowly, Goku slid the silk stocking up Sanzo's leg and over his knee. Goku's warm fingers lingered on Sanzo's thigh as he tied the lacings in place--snug but not too tight. He pulled the breeches' leg back down and refastened the buckle.

The entire process took only a few moments, but Sanzo had not breathed. Now he exhaled.

"There you are, sir." Goku looked up at Sanzo. "You always did have trouble dressing. You could benefit from having a man servant."

Sanzo swallowed. "Are you volunteering?"

"Believe me, I would if I could," Goku said as he stood.

The silence between them quickly became uncomfortable. Sanzo reached for the words he needed to say, but they remained stubbornly elusive. Language nanos or not, he wasn't good at conversing with diplomacy.

"Shall I guide you back to the party now?" Goku held out his hand, indicating the left hallway. "This way, sir."

"No," Sanzo said. He knew his chance to talk to Goku was slipping away.

"No, sir?" Goku said. "Is there something else, sir?"

"Yes. I need to speak with you again. Alone." Sanzo's fingers itched. "We need to talk about music."

"With me?" Goku blinked. He said, "I'm only a servant, sir, and my time with music is at an end. I expect the Count will be missing you. The Baron--"

"Yes, yes." Sanzo waved a hand in the air, done with the niceties. "I understand. You will visit me soon; we need to speak about your compositions."

"My compositions?" Goku clasped his hands together and looked innocent. "Sir, I think you have the wrong--"

"No. I am well aware of your work, Goku," Sanzo said. "You do not need to hide it from me."

Goku took a step back, his eyes wide. "But I don't--"

"Make up a reason, if you must!" Sanzo snapped. "But you will come to speak with me."

Goku bowed his head in compliance. "I will do my best to please you, sir."

"There you are, Sanzo," Gojyo said as he strode toward them. "The Count is asking for you."

"Very well," Sanzo said. "Goku was about to show me the way."

"Hello, Goku. I have heard much about you." Gojyo gave Goku that silky smile of his. "I hope Sanzo has not been too hard on you.. He can be very difficult."

"No, sir." Goku's cheeks looked red. "Master Sanzo is never difficult. He is always helpful."

Gojyo laughed. " _Master_ Sanzo helpful? Oh, that's very rich."

"Be quiet, Gojyo." Sanzo turned toward Goku. "I expect to see you in the next few days, Goku."

"I will try, sir."

Sanzo started down the hallway and looked over his shoulder. "And stop that 'sir' nonsense. You called me Sanzo five years ago, you can certainly do it now."

"Yes, Sanzo."

Gojyo patted Goku on the back. "Come over when you can. We have lots of sweets that need eating."

"You do?" Goku grinned at Gojyo. "I shall try very hard."

 

* * *

 

"Three days he's made us wait," Sanzo grumbled. "The little bastard."

Hakkai swirled the wine in his glass. "Sanzo, from what you tell me, Goku might not have the latitude."

"Come on, Hakkai." Gojyo lit his pipe. "They didn't have indentured servitude in Vienna."

"But he is related to the Baron, isn't he? That could make things more problematic for him."

Sanzo stared at a spot on the table. "If he hasn't been playing, how did he write all that music?"

"Maybe he's like Mozart." Gojyo exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Maybe he can just hear it in his head."

"Or maybe he didn't write it." Sanzo didn't believe it; he was certain Goku wrote the music, but how? Was it possible he was like Mozart? How could there be two such people at the same time in history? Maybe that was why no one knew about Goku--because the balance of life would be undone. Sanzo sneered mentally his dramatic thoughts.

"Are you saying you think we've been barking up the wrong tree?" Gojyo tapped the ash from his pipe. "Do you think that maybe those pieces really were written by Nataku?"

Hakkai said, "Nataku did not write those pieces. Sanzo, I don't--" He stopped when a servant entered the room.

The servant was tall, wigged and completely overdoing his role. He cleared his throat and practically bellowed, "There is a Mr. Son here to see you, sir."

"About time," Gojyo said.

Sanzo tried not to roll his eyes at the actor. "Bring him in."

Goku came into the sitting room and bowed his head. "I apologize for not coming sooner, but my duties have kept me very busy."

"Would you like some tea, Goku?" Hakkai stood up.

Goku looked startled. "No, sir, I--"

"Get him some tea, Hakkai." Sanzo directed. "Help him, Gojyo."

After the two left, Sanzo waved at a chair. "Please sit down." He frowned over the "please" that had been added without his consent.

Goku fidgeted. "Sir, I--"

"What did I say about that?" Sanzo raised his voice. "Call me Sanzo. And please, sit down." Sanzo winced at the second "please".

Goku sat.

Sanzo rubbed his forehead. "Goku, I know you've been composing."

Goku said, "But--"

"How I know is not important." Sanzo searched for words but failed. Mentioning knowledge of Goku's composing had been a mistake. Goku must wonder if Sanzo was a witch or something equally ridiculous. All he could do now was reassure him. "Do not be alarmed that I will tell the Baron; you can be assured of my discretion."

"Thank you."

Hakkai returned with the tea and poured Goku a cup.

Gojyo set a mountain of sweets down in front of Goku. "I did warn you about the amount of sweets we eat, did I not?"

"Yes, you did!" Goku smiled and leaned toward the sweets.

"We get so many because of Sanzo. He has an insatiable love of sweets." Gojyo handed him a linen napkin and then grabbed up one the Turkish delights. "Please, do not be shy."

Goku grabbed a small cake and stuffed it in his mouth. "Oh, that is so good!"

"They are, are they not?" Gojyo grinned.

Hakkai sat down. "Goku, after you've finished your tea, do you think you might have time to play for us? We have heard much about your talent from Sanzo and I know that I, for one, would enjoy hearing you play."

"I think I can do that." Goku took a drink of his tea and snagged another sweet. "But I fear I will have to leave directly afterward. The Baron will expect me to be on hand for serving his guests."

"Is your work very difficult?" Hakkai asked as he poured Goku another cup of tea.

Sanzo found Hakkai and Gojyo's ability to soothe Goku's anxiety annoying. Also, he was beginning to see how Hakkai fit right in with the eighteenth century. His speech had hardly wavered. Of course, Hakkai's birth time did correspond with this period.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai said.

Sanzo's vision cleared. "Yes?"

Gojyo lit his pipe and smiled. "Goku asked if you would play a duet with him, Sanzo."

"Remember our duet for piano and harp?" Goku popped a chocolate in his mouth.

"I remember. It was a variation on a Bach piece." Sanzo almost smiled.

"So," Goku stuffed another sweet in his mouth, "would you like to play it with me now?"

Sanzo stood up. "I would, if you would indulge me." He tightened his jaw. Why wouldn't the nanos just let him say "yes"?

Goku sat down at the pianoforte and let his fingers skim over the keys. "It has been so long."

"Are you certain you remember the melody?" Sanzo said.

Goku laughed, and the sound made Sanzo feel lighter. "Yes, I remember. But I expect I will stumble with playing in many places."

"Huh." Sanzo was surprised the nanos let him get away with the monosyllabic response. He started playing, plucking at the strings. Goku joined in after a few bars. Almost immediately, Sanzo could tell that Goku's playing and talent was the same as it had been five years earlier, possibly better. Remarkable, if he hadn't been playing much.

When they finished, Hakkai was staring. "Your playing is without equal, Goku. You are everything Sanzo said. We must hear some of your original pieces."

"Yes, please," Gojyo added.

Goku gave them a shy smile. "I would enjoy playing with all of you. I listened the other night. and you are all extraordinary musicians."

"We would like that," Gojyo answered.

Goku stood up. "I am sorry, but I must return to the Baron's house now."

"We understand," Hakkai said quietly. "But Goku, we want you to understand that you can consider this house as yours. The servants have been told to treat you as one of us. You can come and go anytime you want. "

"That is true," Gojyo said as he pointed at the plate of sweets. "You can eat whatever you want or play any instrument you want. You can live here if you want.

Goku looked at Sanzo. "Can this be true?"

"It is." Sanzo stood up. "Any time, day or night. you can come here."

Goku looked around. "But the servants--"

"My servants do not spread rumors. You may rest assured on that account," Sanzo said. "So please, come back soon."

Goku exhaled, and then he smiled. "Thank you--you kindness is--"

"None of that now." Gojyo handed him some sweets. "Take those for the carriage ride back to the Baron's."

"Carriage ride?" Goku looked at them.

"Yes, we shall take you back in the carriage." Hakkai smiled.

"Oh."

"Are you ready, now?" Gojyo said. "I'll call for it."

"Yes." Goku's gaze traveled over all of them and stopped at Sanzo. "Thank you all, and I will be back."

"We are glad to hear that," Hakkai said. "Sanzo would be very disappointed if you did not return."

"Be quiet, Hakkai."

Flanked by Hakkai and Gojyo, Goku walked out of the room. Sanzo watched the light step of Goku's silk-clad legs and the gentle sway of his hips. With a start, Sanzo was aware that he was half-hard. When had that happened?

He breathed out and muttered, "Fucking Goku."

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Sanzo had to spend an afternoon with several families of importance. The day was beyond tedious. When Sanzo finally got home, he was tired. And he wanted a shower and a damn smoke.

"Hello, Sanzo," Hakkai said. He was sitting at the big desk in the living room, surrounded by books, his oboe, and several pieces of music. "You're late."

"Yes. I was forced into having tea and conversation with Hadyn." Sanzo pulled out his pipe, desperately needing a nicotine fix. "It was painful."

"You missed a visit from Goku."

"Goku was here?" Sanzo experienced a growing anger over his wasted day. He sat down, opened his pouch of tobacco, and began to fill his pipe. "Did you speak to him?"

"Of course." Hakkai closed the book he was reading. "We played some Bach. Goku even shared one of his own pieces with us."

Sanzo felt cheated, but he still wanted to hear it all. "Did he talk about composing?"

"No." Hakkai shook his head. "Mostly, he asked us questions about you."

"Huh." Hakkai's news made Sanzo feel a bit better.

"I think he has a crush on you, Sanzo." Hakkai smiled.

"And from the way you react around him, I'd say it's mutual," Gojyo said.

Sanzo looked over to see Gojyo leaning against the doorjamb and scowled.

"I just got back from dropping him off." Gojyo flopped into a chair. "He asked me if you were married, you know."

Sanzo felt his heart contract. He was uncomfortably aware that Hakkai was examining him with growing interest. Sanzo changed the subject. "Is there anything to eat?"

Hakkai glanced at Gojyo, and they shared a knowing look before he said, "We're due at Sir Edmond's house for dinner tonight."

Sanzo made a rumbling sound of irritation. He was in for more long-winded conversation with people he didn't give a damn about. "I suppose we're expected to play."

"What do you think?" Gojyo grinned. "Entertainment is at a premium, completely dependent on living, breathing humans."

"I hope they don't want to entertain us in return." Hakkai exhaled. "So many say they are very accomplished, but they aren't. It's tiresome to pretend."

"You've turned into a snob." Gojyo grinned.

Hakkai sniffed. "I prefer to think of myself as discerning."

"We're spoiled is what we are," Sanzo said as he lit his pipe.

"Yep, we are." Gojyo stared at the ceiling and the room fell silent.

The flavor of the tobacco smoke was earthy and spicy as it rolled over Sanzo's tongue.

After several moments, Gojyo slapped his hand on the table, startling all of them. "I forgot!" Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a sealed envelope and handed it to Sanzo. "Goku said to give you this."

Sanzo set it on the table and continued smoking his pipe.

"Well?" Gojyo placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Sanzo _tch_ ed.

"Fine, you secretive bastard." Gojyo got up and walked into the next room. A few minutes later, pleasant cello music filled the room.

Hakkai picked up his oboe and stood up. "Sanzo, you need to be careful with Goku. He's been through so much, and he adores you. Try not to hurt him."

Sanzo rolled his eyes at Hakkai's back. The thought of him hurting Goku almost made him laugh. Instead, he frowned, remembering it was Goku who had shaken his confidence. Maybe his intentions toward Goku were less benevolent than he thought.

Then he remembered his reaction to Goku's smile, his music, and the touch of his fingers on Sanzo's leg. What he was feeling for Goku wasn't envy or spite. It was--

"Fuck." He grabbed the letter and broke the seal. It was a sonata for two pianos in the same scrawling hand Sanzo had stared at for so many nights. But it was new, something Sanzo had never seen before. The piano music filled his head, competitive and passionate. It was a pure reflection of his feelings for Goku.

And Goku had written it for Sanzo.

Sanzo exhaled and let his head roll back, staring at the ceiling and wondering what to do. The little bastard was definitely under his skin and in his head, and it wasn't just because of the music. Goku was supposed to be an awkward, shy teenager, not a striking and confident man. Sanzo didn't know how to deal with his growing interest. He was out of his element. At this point, even if Sanzo were to leave the eighteenth century, he suspected Goku would not let him be.

Sanzo looked closer at the sonata. Goku had scrawled a message in the margin, asking if Sanzo would play it with him.

"Do you think he wrote that after he saw you again?" Gojyo said. "Or before?"

Sanzo sat up. "I thought you were in the other room."

"Goku told me that he wrote something for you, but he didn't say when he wrote it." Gojyo sat down.

"I don’t know." Sanzo looked at the paper again. It was flecked with reddish spots, just like so many of Goku's other pieces. Sanzo had thought the flecks were due the natural foxing that occurred in paper, but this paper was new. He scrapped at one of the spots and it flaked away. What was that?

"It's smeared with ink on the last page." Gojyo pointed at the paper. "See? On the fold. I think he finished it before he came over today. Do you realize what that means? He might have knocked this out in a couple of days--without an instrument."

”Maybe." Sanzo would have agreed with Hakkai, but not Gojyo.

"I know you like him. What're you going to do?"

Sanzo rubbed his fingers with his thumb, feeling the harp-playing calluses.

Gojyo waited.

"We need to find out when he dies." The words left his throat raw and he stood up, desperate with a need to do something. He took a step and as his feet tangled, he stumbled catching himself on one of the ornate tables.

"Sanzo?" Gojyo took a step forward. "Are you all right?"

Sanzo righted himself and muttered, "I have to make a report to Koumyou."

"Yeah," Gojyo said.

Sanzo turned and moved toward the hallway.

"Hey, Sanzo," Gojyo called after him.

"What?"

"We'll find out about Goku, okay?"

"Do whatever you want." Sanzo's voice came out weaker than he intended. As he walked down the hall toward the internal part of the house, he wondered if he was losing his mind. He clutched the sonata in his hand.

"Fucking Goku."


	3. Third Movement - Allegro Appassionato

Third Movement: _Allegro Appassionato_

 

Two days later, Sanzo and Goku sat on a piano bench, discussing Goku's new sonata.

"It does not have to be performed on two pianofortes. I would enjoy playing with you no matter what instrument you chose. I wrote it so you could play the harp if you wished." Goku didn't look at Sanzo while he spoke. "I have noticed the harp is your favorite instrument."

Sanzo didn't speak for a moment. He couldn't remember telling anyone that his favorite instrument was the harp, and yet, Goku knew. It was as if the little monkey could read his mind. Sanzo cleared his throat and said, "I thank you, for your thoughtfulness."

Goku blushed.

Sanzo was suddenly very aware that where their thighs touched, heat was building. He struggled to make his mouth and voice work in unison. "How old are you, Goku?"

"I am not yet one-and-twenty."

Twenty. Sanzo's heart sank. Goku was too old to take back, and even if he was to--Sanzo steered away from his thoughts so quickly that he didn't bother to check his next words. "Goku, I would like you to stay here."

Goku turned his head slowly and stared at Sanzo. "Tell me, what would my duties be in serving Sir Sun?"

"I would not expect you to work." Sanzo's heartbeat elevated. "You could play all day, or compose. Whatever you wanted."

"Whatever _I_ want?" Goku's eyes were wide as he asked the question. "But I am a servant."

Sanzo grappled with his thundering pulse. "Having a benefactor is hardly an unusual arrangement."

"The Baron would be very angry with me if I left his house. I am afraid he is a vindictive man and will go out of his way to make my life impossible when you leave again." Goku tipped his head and looked at Sanzo shyly. "And you will leave again, will you not?"

Sanzo studied a very intricate wall sconce.

"My current situation might not be ideal, but without good references, I would be reduced to bitter poverty. You must see that." Goku started to laugh, but he ended up coughing. And coughing. He reached for his handkerchief and covered his mouth.

"May I get you something?" Sanzo tried to hide his alarm over the harsh, painful sound.

"No, I assure you I am well," Goku managed to say as the cough subsided. Sanzo glimpsed a bright red stain on the white square of handkerchief before Goku quickly stuffed it into his pocket. Catching his breath, Goku finished his thought. "Without the Baron, I would be lucky to find employment at a local brothel."

"Don't be an imbecile." Sanzo frowned, noticing how pale Goku was. "You could write music, vaudevilles if nothing else. Or you could teach."

"I would be an outcast. The vaudeville houses would be helpless against an angry nobleman, and I would not wish to make things more difficult for them. As for teaching, that would be even more out of the question." Goku cleared his throat. "I appreciate your generous offer but as you can see, I have no way of accepting it."

"How can you bear it?" Sanzo felt a growing frustration. "To be separated from your music?"

"I manage very well because I am never without my music." Goku's smile was bright and sure, full of light. He tapped his temple. "It is here, always."

"But do you not wish to play?"

"Of course I wish it." Goku leaned close to Sanzo. "But as I am only a servant, I also wish to keep my fingers intact."

"Are you telling me the Baron knows about your skills?"

Goku played a few very complicated bars on the piano. "Oh, yes, he knows I can play, and he forbids it. As for composing, he does not know about that. Nataku knew I composed, but he encouraged me to keep quiet."

"Why?"

"Ah, it is a tragedy of sensational proportions." Goku's fingers skimmed the keys, making a mischievous sound and then dropping to a more serious melody. "You see, there was a time that the Baron wished for his son to be a great musician and distinguish himself to Emperor Joseph."

Goku's playing shifted to a melancholy sound. "But regrettably, while Nataku could play very well, he was not granted a consuming love for music. Nataku feared his father would use me to further him as a musical talent and force us down a path of deceit. Nataku would not have it, but I confess, if the decision had been mine, I would have done it. If we had embarked on such a journey, our lives might have turned out very differently."

Sanzo waited and Goku's music changed to a soft but confusing dissonance.

"There was a time when Nataku and I were inseparable. I do think that initially, the Baron hoped my love for music would inspire Nataku and we did, occasionally, work on pieces together. But then--" Goku played a low and ominous series of chords, "the Baron realized we might be a bit closer than was proper."

Goku's words caused a few of things to click into place for Sanzo, and he experienced a wave of surprise and irritation.

"I believe I have shocked you." Goku laughed and let his fingers trickle over the higher keys, and the pianoforte seemed to laugh with him. His smile faded, but the blush on his cheeks was bright. "I had hoped that perhaps you might understand, considering how--ah, perhaps I was mistaken."

Sanzo knew he needed to speak, but he couldn't get the words to form in his head--even though he knew they would come out clumsy and strange.

Goku stood up. "I think perhaps I should leave. I expect you'll be longing for my absence now."

"Sit down." Sanzo grabbed Goku's arm and pulled him back down on the bench. "Our conversation is not yet concluded."

Goku folded his hands in his lap and studied the keyboard.

"I shall speak to the Baron and see if he will allow--"

"No, you mustn't!" Goku hissed. "Please. You have no idea what that man is. If you interfered, he would ruin you, too."

"Is he that jealous of you?"

"He seeks power. Had I helped his son gain notice from the Emperor, he would have tolerated me, possibly even acknowledged me as the bastard child of his dead brother. But his plan did not work out and he is certain the fault lies with me. He hates me because I am a grievous disappointment to him. He will not let me go, and his ongoing punishment is to divide me from music."

"Does he," Sanzo tried hide to his shaking, "hurt you?"

Goku shook his head. "Not often and not badly. However, he has made it clear that if I cannot help his son, he will not allow me to succeed on my own merit. If I attempted it, I am not sure how he would react. When the war with Turkey broke out, I had hoped he would send me into the army. I was rather good at swordplay in school; in fact, I very much enjoyed it. But he would not allow it for fear I might survive and take up an instrument around someone of importance."

Sanzo's placed his hand on the bench, next to Goku's so that their little fingers touched. Sanzo was out of offers and out of hope for now. Until they knew Goku's effect on the future, Sanzo couldn't offer any solutions. Even then, with Goku's age, chances were great that Sanzo wouldn't be able to help.

Goku stared at their touching fingers when he asked, "My confession about Nataku--that did not offend you?"

"Is that what you are worried about?" Sanzo's heart began its clamoring beat again.

"Yes, I believe it is." Goku looked up through his long lashes and tousled hair, apprehension clear in his features. "I am only a servant, but I could not endure it if you thought ill of me."

One of Goku's arias filled Sanzo's head: a single melody, clear and luminous, but building with tension. Sanzo resonated with the tension. He seemed unable to control himself as he leaned close and placed his hand on Goku's cheek. He wanted to call Goku an idiot, to tell him to relax, but instead, what came out was, "I will never think ill of you. On the contrary."

The aria faded, taken up by a full orchestra as time slowed. Their breathing took up the orchestra's rhythm. The warmth increased between them as this time, Goku moved closer, brushing his lips against Sanzo's.

Goku breathed out, "This must be a dream. Sanzo, would--"

Sanzo threaded his free hand through Goku's thick hair as they kissed, harder this time, with less trepidation and more passion. Goku tasted of chocolate and something tangy, like an exotic dessert. Without breaking their kiss, Sanzo shifted, folding one leg under and then over, straddling the bench in order to get maximum contact, pressing his stiffening cock into Goku's hip. Goku moaned, and as his mouth opened, Sanzo could not resist pressing his tongue in deep. The symphony gained power, and he surrendered to it, wanting to drown in the music, to drown in Goku.

He nudged at Goku's hips, getting him to twist around so they faced one another. Sanzo tugged at Goku's breeches, eager to touch warm flesh.

"Sanzo," Goku panted as he pushed away, "I must go back before I am missed."

Sanzo heard the words, but he unfastened the buttons all the same and touched the soft linen fabric covering Goku's erection. Sanzo deftly unlaced Goku's drawers, all the time wondering why eighteenth century clothing had to be so difficult. His hands slid over heated skin, touching the wet tip of Goku's cock, and there was a buffeting noise in his head--a steady, thumping sound like kettledrums. He thought he might be losing his mind.

Goku clutched at Sanzo's shoulders.

Sanzo groaned as his fingers curled around Goku's thick erection. Considering Goku's short stature, the proportions of his cock were impressive.

"Sanzo--"

Sanzo's moved his hand, stroking Goku, making him cry out. Sanzo watched Goku with open fascination. The man who had invaded Sanzo's thoughts and dreams, who had driven him to unimagined desperation, was now clinging to him, hips rocking with each caress. The feeling was heady--the pleasure Goku was experiencing seemed to resonate and reverberate back to Sanzo, and his own erection pulsed in response.

Sanzo was so fixated that he'd barely registered the fact that Goku had opened his pants. Since Sanzo didn't bother with drawers, Goku's cool fingers quickly found what they were searching for. Sanzo's breath caught and his cock throbbed when Goku grabbed him. A spiraling tautness spread from deep inside Sanzo's groin, the swirling tempo matching the music in his head.

Goku's voice cracked as he asked, "Is that right?"

"Yes," Sanzo groaned at Goku's steady touches. "And for you?"

"I think--" The fingers of Goku's left hand dug deep into Sanzo's shoulder and he cried out. Warm come spilled over Sanzo's hand as Goku held tight.

After Goku's shuddering stopped and his breathing evened out, he sat up again. He was flushed and the hand that had gone slack on Sanzo's cock, tightened again. Goku slid back and onto the floor. He pulled at Sanzo's hips, urging him toward the edge of the bench.

Sanzo was mesmerized as he moved forward, hearing the music gain in tempo, fast and filled with passion. Goku bent his head and licked at the moisture gathering at the tip of Sanzo's erection, the feeling hot, wet, and sensuous. When Goku's mouth closed on him, Sanzo clutched at the bench, steadying himself as his vision blurred. Goku's throat muscles squeezed against the length of Sanzo's cock.

Goku's raised his head, dragging his tongue along sensitive ridges. His fingers caressed Sanzo's balls and then dipped lower, teasing the tender strip of flesh there. Sanzo's muscles flexed, the tightness in his belly increasing as his fingers tangled in Goku's hair. Sanzo couldn't stop himself from lifting his hips and pushing deeper into Goku's mouth. He moaned as he came.

The music faded until Sanzo could only hear heavy breathing. He felt languidness steal over his body, and he was craving a cigarette. He rearranged himself on the seat then helped a glassy-eyed Goku up and back on to the bench. Sanzo used his handkerchief to clean Goku off before redressing him. Afterward, they sat without speaking, their shoulders touching as they leaned against one another.

Sanzo was spent and relaxed, but finally he asked--with some help from the nanos--"May I get you some refreshments?"

"No, I thank you." Goku stood up and wobbled just a little. "I am afraid I have already stayed too long."

Sanzo nodded. "Let me call for the carriage."

"Please do not bother. I would prefer to walk home tonight." Goku laced his fingers together and stretched them over his head. "I believe I need some fresh air, and it is less than a mile. I should be back before your carriage can get me there."

Sanzo stared at Goku. "You will come back?"

Goku gave him a bright smile. "You can be assured of my return. In fact, there are rumors that the Baron may be leaving for a short trip soon."

A short trip. Goku could stay a night, maybe longer. Sanzo shivered with the thought. "That would be very agreeable."

"For me as well." Goku bowed. "Until next time, then."

Sanzo bowed his head and watched Goku dart out of the room. He sat down again, then filled and lit his pipe. In his head, he replayed the erotic scene that had just happened. The little bastard had surprised him again.

But this time, when he said the words, Sanzo almost smiled. "Fucking Goku."

 

* * *

 

Sanzo was smoking a cigarette inside the safe room when Koumyou materialized on the screen. He was leaning back in his chair, feet on the console.

"Ah, Kouryuu. I've been wondering about you," Koumyou said.

"I've found him."

"Yes?"

"Goku Son is definitely the one," Sanzo said.

Koumyou swung his feet to the floor and sat up. "And do you know the other particulars about his case?"

Sanzo furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"The usual things like age, offspring, and date of death. Have you gathered that?"

Sanzo's stomach clenched at the words. "We haven't been able to find out anything about his … death. The records are sketchy and not very reliable. But he seems healthy. He told me that he's twenty."

"Oh, my. That's too bad, isn't it? If he were eighteen and sickly, you could arrange to bring him back. Tell me, have you run a medical scan on him?"

A medical scan? "No."

"Have you discussed his music with him?" Koumyou seemed only semi-interested in what Sanzo had to say.

"Some. I'll be certain to give you a full written report."

"I'll look forward to it." Koumyou's eyes focused. "You look good, Kouryuu. The eighteenth century must agree with you."

"It reeks like a cesspool here."

Koumyou laughed. "Indeed, it does. Be sure to bring me back something interesting, all right?"

"Sure," Sanzo said with a frown. Something interesting?

"Oh, and Kouryuu?"

Sanzo stared at the screen.

"There're a few musical guests invited at the palace that I think you should meet. I believe you were sent an invitation."

"I was." Sanzo had been planning to decline that gathering.

"Be a good music student and attend. A young Beethoven will be there, before he had his falling out with Hadyn," Koumyou said.

"Fine."

Koumyou smiled and cut the signal.

Sanzo glared at the dark screen and said, "Damn it."

 

* * *

 

Sanzo exited the carriage after his tedious visit with Emperor Joseph, Haydn, Beethoven, and company. The night had been long, but he had managed to gather some previously unknown information about music and politics in the court of Emperor Joseph. The Emperor was a friendly enough fellow with very little natural talent. Still, Sanzo could not deny how important he was to the grand scheme of music.

Baron von Touten had been there as well, bragging about his forthcoming trip to Graz. Sanzo had decided that he really didn't like the man. All of the stories he'd heard painted the Baron in the same light Goku had. Von Touten was hungry for power and would use anyone if he thought he might gain some notoriety out of it. Sanzo had heard the story of how the unfortunate Nataku--bargained off like a poker chip to a Count's daughter in Graz. Though Sanzo suspected Nataku's unorthodox stay in Graz--with the bride's family--was a choice, anything to stay away from the totalitarianism of von Touten. Sanzo was certain that was why Goku remained in Vienna--he was a hold to hang over Nataku's head.

Sanzo made his way to the bathroom. There would be standing water there to wash his face and hands. He threw open the door and froze.

Goku was in the bathtub. He looked entirely comfortable, almost smug, as one leg dangled over the metal side. He gave Sanzo a sly grin. "Hello, sir."

Sanzo didn't know how to answer; so he opened his mouth and let the nanos take charge. "It is agreeable to see you again."

"I am very glad of that." Goku gave Sanzo a slow, sultry blink as he swung his foot. "I hope you do not mind my imposition concerning your bathtub."

"Not at all."

"I see that you are still a man of few words. I think I like that." Goku gripped either side of the tub and stood up. "Excuse my impertinence, sir, but might I impose on you to bring me a towel?"

Sanzo picked up a linen towel and walked across the room, his eyes never leaving Goku as he stepped out of the tub. He was stunning; as the water sluiced off him and his bronzed skin glittered under the candlelight. His brown hair fell past his shoulders and wet strands stuck to his collarbone and arms. Sanzo's eyes followed angles of muscle and bone down Goku's slender body only to stop at his groin. Hip bones disappeared behind wet, dark curls, and a stiff, healthy erection.

Sanzo's mouth was bone dry.

"Has something caught your eye, sir?" Goku grinned at Sanzo and held out his hand for the towel.

"I believe so," Sanzo said as he unfolded the towel with a snap and draped it over Goku's hair. He used both hands to squeeze out the water. Goku's eyes were wide as Sanzo ran the towel over his shoulders and chest, drying them quickly. He was compliant as Sanzo turned him, drying Goku's back, butt, and down his legs. His skin prickled with goose bumps as Sanzo stood up, dragging the towel up the front of Goku's body.

Sanzo turned Goku once again. Goku's voice cracked as he said, "Sanzo."

The room was filled with the dizzying scent of a clean and aroused Goku, and in response, the majority of blood in Sanzo's body had migrated to his cock. He placed the towel over Goku's shoulders. One of Sanzo's hands slid down Goku's arm and gently encircled his wrist. "Come."

Goku nodded and wordlessly followed him.

They slipped down the hallway to Sanzo's bedroom. Goku was shivering by the time they got into the warm room. A fire was lit and candles reflected off mirrored sconces. Sanzo led Goku to the fire and fetched a robe. He did his best to dry Goku's hair further.

"Sanzo," Goku breathed. The robe was loose on Goku's shoulders, and it hung open, bare skin and hard cock exposed and tantalizing Sanzo.

Sanzo agreed with Goku's unspoken request and guided him to the bed, even though he felt a momentary flutter of guilt. He should be learning more about music from Goku, not taking advantage of him like this.

Goku let the robe fall to the floor. He crawled on to the bed and lay on his back, giving Sanzo a confident smile. At that moment, Sanzo's guilt melted away. Goku was here because he wanted to be.

Thoughts of musical conversations disappeared from Sanzo's mind as he unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it toward a chair. Then he fumbled with his vest, popping off a button in his haste. He kicked off his shoes and breeches and pulled his shirt over his head, hearing a tearing sound. Finally, he sat on the bed and started to tug at the ties on his hose. He raised his head.

Goku was watching him. "Would you like some help, sir?"

Sanzo abandoned the ties and climbed on top of Goku instead. "No, thank you," he said. His cock throbbed as he pressed against Goku's hip. They kissed deeply, tongues touching and tasting. Sanzo reacted to Goku's flavor, wanting much more.

Sanzo tried to catch his breath. "Goku, have you ever--" Sanzo swallowed. How could he ask such a question?

"Been buggered? No. Well," Goku's cheeks reddened, "only by my own hand."

"By your own hand?" Sanzo thought he might pass out. "How?"

"Well, truthfully, by my own hand and a candle." Goku closed his eyes. "I liked to pretend it was you."

"And?" Sanzo swallowed again. "Did you enjoy it?"

"It was a bit painful the first time, but since then, I learned about oil, and now I am quite at ease." Goku opened his eyes.

"Would you show me?" Sanzo got up and retrieved a tin from his bureau. The stuff inside looked like something Goku would be familiar with, but it was much better and actually made for sex. Sanzo's pulse pounded in his head as he opened the tin and held it out to Goku. When Sanzo spoke again, the words were all his. "I would very much like to see."

The scent of ginger and vanilla was heavy in the air. Goku sat up and dipped his fingers into the thick cream. He was shaking and still bright red as he rolled onto his stomach and slid a pillow under his hips. He reached back with both hands. His left pulled his cheeks open and the right dipped between, swirling his coated fingers around the tiny hole.

Sanzo moved closer to watch, placing one hand on Goku's calf. His cock throbbed in time with his pounding heart.

The tip of Goku's finger slipped inside, and Sanzo forgot to breathe. Even if he could've formed words, he didn't bother; he did want the nanos to ruin the moment.

Goku looked shyly over his shoulder. "You are not disgusted."

"Not at all." Sanzo's hands ran up the back of Goku's thighs and onto his ass. Sanzo's thumbs parted Goku wider. "Not at all."

Goku moaned and pressed his finger deep inside, as far as it would go. Then he slipped it out and back again.

"Are you in pain?" Sanzo asked, mesmerized by the sight of Goku's finger appearing and disappearing into that small opening.

"No, sir, nothing hurts." Goku shifted on his knees and added his index finger.

Sanzo grunted. He dipped his fingers into the cream and touched Goku's moving hand. "May I?"

Goku sucked in a breath. "Yes, sir."

Goku removed his fingers and Sanzo was pleased to see the small hole was now a bit larger. He pressed the same two fingers inside and moved them around, searching for Goku's prostate. Goku tensed and cried out with pleasure as Sanzo rocked his fingers inside.

"You cannot finish yet, Goku. Move the pillow and get up on your hands and knees." Goku did as he was told. Sanzo dipped his other fingers in the cream and slathered it over his anxious cock. He used his one hand to separate Goku's cheeks and his other hand to steer himself into the relaxed opening.

Goku's fingers dug into the bedding as the tip of Sanzo's cock pushed inside. The tightness and heat of him was breathtaking. Sanzo pushed inside at a slow pace, feeling each and every centimeter as Goku pulled him in and squeezed him. When Goku tensed, Sanzo paused, hoping that the cream and his patience would reduce any pain.

Sanzo slowly slid inside, closing his eyes with the exquisite, clutching heat. When his balls nestled against Goku's ass, he exhaled and opened his eyes. Leaning forward he kissed the back of Goku's neck and asked, "Are you hurt?"

Goku shook his head, but he still had his death grip on the bedding.

"Relax." Sanzo kept still as he let his fingers slide over Goku's back. He loved the sexy dip that ran the length of Goku's back, the curve of muscles over his sides, the soft angles of his shoulder blades, and the tantalizing dimples just above the gentle swell of his ass. "Relax."

He curled his arm around Goku's hip and touched his wet, and still very hard cock. "Hmm." Knowing that Goku was still aroused, Sanzo lifted his hips, backing out of the tight heat and then sliding back in. He kept his pace slow, but it took all of his willpower.

With every one of Sanzo's strokes, Goku began to synchronize with his movements. His moans grew in volume as he pressed and twisted his hips back in time with Sanzo's thrusts. Sanzo was remotely aware of how easy and expected it was to be with Goku.

Sanzo pulled out and gently turned Goku onto his back. Goku stretched out beneath him, alluring in the candlelight with his legs splayed and his skin flushed. Sanzo experienced that odd tangle of emotions again--they mingled with a single slow descant, a melody that was coming to mean "Goku" to him.

Sanzo shifted forward and eased his cock inside Goku with a sigh. Sanzo dipped his fingers in the cream again then slid his hand over Goku's erection. Goku moaned and arched his back, lifting his hips as his come spilled over his belly in thin, diaphanous strands.

As Goku writhed with his release, he clutched and squeezed Sanzo's cock. Sanzo's restraint broke as he watched Goku's erotic display with fascination. His body tensed with his sudden and surprising orgasm as he crested Goku's wave of ecstasy. He snapped his hips, burying his cock deep as he came.

He collapsed on top of Goku while his breathing evened out.

"You are heavy, Sanzo."

Sanzo rolled to one side. "My apologies." Even in the throes of post-coital sex, the nanos wouldn't let him be. He sighed, too relaxed to even work up any anger toward them.

"Should I leave?" Goku sounded a little lost.

Sanzo opened eyes he hadn't been aware he'd closed. He smoothed back a few strands of Goku's sweat-damp hair. "No. I want you to stay here. With me."

Goku nodded and moved closer to Sanzo. "Then I will."

Sated and warm, Sanzo drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight was streaming through a tiny opening between the thick curtains when Sanzo's eyes opened. Almost as an afterthought, he reached his hand over only to find the other side of the bed empty. Goku must already be up.

Sanzo sat up with a slight groan; his body was sore--gloriously so. He stretched and got out of bed. Padding over to the washbasin, he rinsed off with the cold water. Later, he would need to find a few free minutes to take a shower, but until then, this would have to do. He was ravenously hungry.

Once he was dressed, he walked to the breakfast room. Hakkai and Gojyo were already there.

"Where's Goku?" Sanzo asked them.

"He left early. He said he had chores that needed attention before the Baron's departure." Hakkai poured Sanzo a cup of coffee.

"Huh." Sanzo answered. "What's for breakfast?"

"Potatoes and sausage, of course," Gojyo replied.

Sanzo made himself a plate and then returned to the table.

Gojyo watched him, grinning as Sanzo sat down. "It looks as though you enjoyed yourself last night. Although I have to say, your boy is very loud, _Master Sanzo_."

Sanzo sniffed disdainfully and picked up the day's newspaper from the table, effectively tuning out any more banter from Gojyo.

"I think we need to speak about Goku," Hakkai said. "I ran those medical tests on him you asked for."

"Huh." Sanzo started reading a column about the uprising in France.

"I'm afraid he has tuberculosis." Hakkai's voice was very gentle.

Sanzo folded down the top of the newspaper he was reading. "What?"

"It's very advanced. A common disease for this age," Hakkai said as he placed a cup of tea in front of Sanzo and sat down.

"But how?" Gojyo leaned on the table. "He seems fine. A little skinny, maybe, but not at death's door."

Sanzo considered it. Goku was thin and so pale. He was lively enough, but there were other times. "He does cough a lot."

Hakkai nodded. "Yes."

"Is he in pain?" Sanzo managed to say without his voice giving him away.

"Probably, some."

Gojyo drummed his fingers on the table. "Can he be cured? Can we give him something to--"

"No." Hakkai stared at Sanzo. "At least, not until we know more about his impact on this time."

"That seems so lame." Gojyo spread his hands in obvious frustration. "If we can cure him, why don't we? That kid trusts us. And so far, we've turned up nada on him in the database. I say we go for it."

"Gojyo, you know we can't." Hakkai's look slipped Sanzo's way. "You both know that."

Sanzo gripped the edges of his paper. "How long does he have?"

"I don't know," Hakkai said. "But as advanced as it is, I wouldn't give him more than a year. Two at the most."

A year. Sanzo didn't know how to react to that. Not yet. He stood up.

"Hey, where are you going?" Gojyo asked.

Sanzo walked away. Of course, he was going to look for Goku. The Baron would be gone soon, and they could spend whatever time Goku had left--together.

 

* * *

 

A week later, after a slow and passionate engagement, Sanzo and Goku lay next to one another in the big bed. Since the Baron's departure, Goku had not left Sanzo's side and strangely enough, Sanzo was comfortable with that arrangement. If fact, he might go so far to say that he was happy.

Sanzo was drifting and almost asleep when Goku said, "I must confess that sometimes I think you are only a dream--some sort of spectral creature."

Sanzo did a close approximation of a laugh. He closed his eyes and said, "And yet, you do not fear me."

"No, not you." Goku rolled onto his side and stared at Sanzo. "I suppose 'specter' is too severe. Perhaps 'mysterious', would be a better description of your character."

"How so?" Alarm bells sounded softly in Sanzo's head.

"For one, your last visit here was five years ago. You've not changed one bit."

Sanzo scratched at his eyebrow and let the nanos do their job. "And what were your expectations after only five years? Did you think I would need a cane to walk? Twice that number of years might bring about changes, but not five. Also, you must remember you were very young the last time we met. Perhaps your memory did not hold my image faithfully."

Goku laughed. "That is not possible. Were you five-and-eighty, I am certain I would be able to recognize you. Your likeness is not one I could ever mistake."

Sanzo fully intended to tell Goku to stop sounding like an idiot; instead, he said, "You praise me overly much."

"Perhaps." Goku's arm slid under his pillow and his eyes glittered with mischief. "You appear out of place in Vienna, as if some miracle had occurred while you slept and when you awoke, you found yourself here. But I suppose the traits that set you apart are less fanciful and much more ordinary."

"Pray, tell me, in what ways do I appear out of place?" Sanzo felt as if he were falling into a carefully constructed trap.

"Why, in the ways of your speech and mannerisms, although that could be attributed to your hinterland birth," Goku said. "There can be no doubt that are a gentleman, in every sense of the word, and yet at times, your behavior contradicts your birth. You are kind to the poor and sick. And you are not averse to taking a servant to your bed."

Sanzo did laugh this time. No one had accused him of kindness before. "Are gentlemen not meant to be kind? And I'm quite certain many gentlemen bed servants."

"True, but there is much more to you than kindness." Goku seemed to search for words before continuing, "Your actions toward those of inferior birth are extraordinary. You look on servants and the infirm as equals. The entirety of your household is such."

"We have been described as oddities, I cannot argue that," Sanzo explained. "But you would be quite mistaken if you considered us bereft of flaws."

"Oh, but I believe you are bereft of flaws." Goku flashed that brilliant smile. "You, sir, are perfect."

The words hung in the air like a poisonous cloud around Sanzo, and for several beats of his heart, he considered telling Goku the truth. Sanzo knew the nanos wouldn't let him, but he experienced a moment of unwelcome guilt all the same. He was relieved when reason quickly reestablished itself. Grounded and clever Goku might be, but even so, a frank discussion concerning time travel would be problematic. Vienna might be modern for the eighteenth century, but the society remained superstitious.

Goku started to cough. It was a wracking, tearing cough. Tears spilled from his eyes as he sat up and tried to leave the bed. Sanzo grabbed Goku's arm and pulled him back, holding him as the coughing spasm went on and on.

Denial about Goku's health was no longer possible, and he knew that Hakkai was right. In spite of Goku's fire and energy, he was dying. Sanzo didn't know how to respond. Now that he'd found Goku, it didn't seem fair that they would have such a short amount of time together.

Goku's coughing subsided and he collapsed against Sanzo. His voice was rough and faint when he said, "You should insist that I leave. My presence could put you at a dangerous risk."

"Why? Because you have consumption?" The words were difficult for Sanzo to say.

"Yes."

He smoothed back Goku's hair, noticing the bedding and their clothing were speckled with blood. He remembered page after page of music dappled with rusty-colored stains. "Do not worry for me on that account. I am quite unaffected by consumption."

"Unaffected? That is a ridiculous thing to say, but I thank you." Goku's eyes shut with exhaustion but his curiosity was still evident. "As I said before, you are quite the gentleman."

"No more about that. Sleep, now." Sanzo watched as Goku fell asleep against his chest. Goku's breathing was still labored, but it had improved. Sanzo felt a little overwhelmed by the mix of emotions he was experiencing, sorrow and peace mingled together and separated again, like water and oil. Deeper in his mind, a thread of hope emerged and took hold. If Sanzo could take Goku back to the twenty-fifth century, then he could live a full life. There was a chance.

He settled onto his back, still holding a sleeping Goku against him. Tomorrow, he would talk with Koumyou and find out what the options were.

There had to be options.

 

* * *

 

Sanzo had finished explaining the situation to his mentor. He'd told Koumyou of Goku's imminent death and explained what he wanted to do. Now he waited for Koumyou's response. Koumyou looked sleepy, and somewhere in his dwelling, someone--probably Ukoku--was playing a violin. Sanzo didn't understand the attraction Koumyou had for Ukoku, but that was another issue entirely.

Koumyou blew out a puff of smoke and said, "Your situation sounds rather hopeless."

Sanzo blinked as he replayed Koumyou words. "What?"

"It’s hopeless." Koumyou yawned. "As in no hope."

"But--"

"The rules state Goku's too old. The experts say eighteen is the maximum age. You know what happened with your friend."

Sanzo said, "Hakkai's situation is different from Goku's."

"Is it?" Koumyou sat back in his comfortable chair. "How so?"

"Hakkai was compromised--he was placed in a no-win scenario, a situation that so closely resembled his family's slaughter that the nanos couldn't compensate and keep him sane--you said so yourself." Sanzo was losing his patience.

"Hmm." Koumyou's eyes slid shut. "What would you have me tell you?"

"I want you to tell me it's okay to bring him back."

"You know I can't do that."

Behind Koumyou, the violin stopped and Ukoku's oily voice said, "Are you still talking about this? Really, Koumyou, you give him far too much credit."

Koumyou continued, "He's too old. Unless he's eighteen, you can't bring him back."

"Enough." Ukoku's face appeared on the screen. A tangle of dark hair fell over one of his eyeglass lenses, making him look sinister. "You're a clever boy, Kouryuu, don't disappoint us. We'd so love to play with your new friend."

The screen went dark.

Sanzo stood up, threw his coffee cup at the screen, and left the room.

In the breakfast room, he found Hakkai and Gojyo. They both looked very grave.

"What is it?" Sanzo poured himself a cup of tea. Coffee was off limits in this part of the house, and he now regretted throwing the one cup he'd had in several days.

"It's Goku." Hakkai's gaze was steady. "He's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Sanzo sat down. "He said he wanted to go back and get his music. He said he'd be back. That was only a few hours ago."

Gojyo grimaced. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I have an arrangement with one of the servants in the Baron's house to give me information. She showed up about an hour ago."

"And?" Sanzo prompted.

"She said that some of the Baron's staff snatched Goku and took him," Gojyo said.

"Took him? Where?"

"She didn't know." Gojyo looked stricken.

Sanzo slammed his hand on the table. "Well, we need to find out, don't we?"

"Sanzo, please," Hakkai said softly, "there is no need to shout. Let's think about this, where did the Baron go?"

"Graz. He went to visit Nataku."

"Graz?" Hakkai's eyebrow arched and he stood up. "I didn't think to check there. Maybe that's where he--" Hakkai darted out of the room.

Sanzo and Gojyo exchanged looks, and raced to follow.


	4. Fourth Movement - Allegro con spirit

Fourth Movement: _Allegro con spirit_

 

"Yes," Hakkai said as he stared at the screen. "Here it is."

"What?" Sanzo noticed the screen was clean and there was no evidence of its earlier encounter with his coffee mug. The transport operatives were efficient as ever.

"Record of Goku's death."

Sanzo winced at the words. "When?"

"A week from now. In Graz. I didn't think to look for the records in Graz, and even then, he's listed as a servant in the Count's employment, not the Baron's. This is all very strange."

"I think bureaucrats are the same all over, no matter the time or the place. Bored and inefficient," Sanzo said, but mentally, he did agree with Hakkai. Something additional had happened to Goku. Sanzo clenched his fists with helpless anger.

Gojyo flopped into a chair, his face stricken. "Oh, man. I'm going to miss that little pest."

"He's not dead, yet, Gojyo." Hakkai's voice was soft. He swiveled his chair around. "I assume we're going to Graz, aren't we, Sanzo?"

"I am." Sanzo nodded. "If you want to come along, that's your choice."

"Wait a minute. Are you--" Gojyo's gaze moved from Hakkai to Sanzo. "You're planning on taking him back, aren't you?"

"Yes," Sanzo said.

"But--" Gojyo's fingers splayed out on the table, "Sanzo, he's too old. He's twenty--they won't let you do that."

Sanzo remembered Koumyou's words. "He's eighteen."

"Holy crap, you _are_ doing it." Gojyo started to laugh and leaned close to Hakkai to mutter, "And you get on me for breaking the rules."

"He's eighteen," Sanzo snapped. "Get that through your thick head and remember it. If he's eighteen, it's _not_ breaking the rules."

Gojyo's laughter had stopped, and he sat up. "You're serious, aren't you? If they find out--"

"They won't." Sanzo's gaze shifted. "Will they, Hakkai?"

"No, I don't believe they will. There are no records of his birth, just Goku's word." Hakkai furrowed his brow. "Although …"

"What?" Sanzo asked. "Are there records of his birth? Because we need to destroy them if--"

"No." Hakkai shook his head. "None that I could find. If he's eighteen, then there will be no problem."

Gojyo's stare moved from Sanzo to Hakkai. "You're both crazy. He's twenty. Re-education might destroy him. He might--"

"Gojyo," Hakkai's voice was low and soft but unyielding, "the age eighteen rule is in place specifically because of me. Please try to remember, just because I turned out to be a--a bit violent, that doesn't mean Goku will do the same."

"Stop it, Hakkai." Gojyo grabbed Hakkai's hand and faced Sanzo again. "Are you telling me that Koumyou knows about bringing him back?"

"Not officially." Sanzo exhaled, realizing that Koumyou had known everything right from the beginning. The tuberculosis, the date of death, Goku's zero effect on history. The only thing Koumyou hadn't known was Goku's age. Or had he? "We've had some unofficial conversations about Goku. I believe he will help, as long as Goku is eighteen."

"What?!" Gojyo shouted, "You could've told us, you rat bastard!"

"Yes, I could have." Sanzo lit his pipe.

Gojyo furrowed his brow. "Why, you--"

"I didn't know it was an option until today." Sanzo exhaled a cloud of smoke in Gojyo's direction. He still wasn't completely certain about Koumyou, but it was all he had.

"I see. You had to find out his impact concerning the future," Hakkai explained. "What if he'd made some important contribution to science? Or if he'd had important children?"

"Science? Get real." Gojyo rolled his eyes. "And I think I could've told you he wasn't father material after his howling with Sanzo these last few nights."

"Yes, but we didn't know the final outcome of his life in the eighteenth century until now," Hakkai said. He chewed on his lip. "I still don't know why he would be in Graz when he … passes. According to the medical scans, he should have several more months left. At a minimum."

"Well, there's one way to find out." Gojyo stood up. "I'll get the carriage ready and speak with the transport operatives."

Hakkai said as he turned back to the console, "And I'll communicate our needs to the safe house in Graz. If there is one."

"You're both coming?" Sanzo puffed on his pipe.

Gojyo said, "You've gotta be kidding me. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Indeed," Hakkai agreed. "It's not every day Sanzo makes a lovesick fool out of himself."

"I will kill you both if you don't shut up." Sanzo turned on his heel and walked toward the door. Behind him, he could hear Gojyo and Hakkai laughing.

 

* * *

 

It had taken the bulk of three days to make their way to Graz. They'd negotiated through the tedious bureaucracy to gather what they needed in a very short time. In the end, they'd traveled to the safe house outside of Vienna and transported to another house directly inside Graz. They moved more in the shadows now, without the cushion of fabricated back-stories and altered records to give their presence in Graz credence. In truth, they didn't know what they were up against, and secrecy had become a shield since they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. They'd gone so far as to alter their appearance, Gojyo was now sporting black hair and eyes, and Hakkai had blond hair and blue eyes. Sanzo didn't bother to go out.

Late on the fifth day since finding out about Goku's abduction, Sanzo was pacing the floor of the Graz safe house when Gojyo returned.

Sanzo tried not to sound too anxious. "Did you find him?"

"Not yet," Gojyo said. "He's not in the Count's home, I'm sure about that. I'm trying to be cautious and get a message to Nataku. The Baron is definitely here, so if you go out, make sure to wear a disguise. We don't need to make further trouble for Goku."

"We need to find him. He's only got a couple of days left if the computer records were correct."

"Yes, we know." Hakkai stood up and crossed his arms. His agitation nearly matched Sanzo's. "We need to deliver the nanos to Goku very soon, or--"

"I know." Sanzo resumed his pacing. How could they save Goku if they couldn't find him?

"This is nerve-wracking isn't it?" Gojyo collapsed into a chair. "All we can do at this point is wait."

Sanzo ran his hands through his hair and tried to keep his mind occupied. "Hakkai, why were you hesitant about Goku's birth records?"

"A feeling, actually, nothing more than that."

Sanzo waited.

"When we first arrived in Vienna, I went to the area I was certain would have the records of Goku's birth." Hakkai poured himself a cup of tea. "When the administrator took me to where the records were kept, she said I wasn't the first to ask about that particular birth."

Sanzo rubbed his fingers and thumb together. "Who was it?"

Hakkai looked up at Sanzo and said, "A man. About my height. He had dark hair and dark eyes. And he wore glasses."

"Ukoku?" Sanzo asked.

"I can't say for sure, but it is a coincidence, isn't it?"

"Coincidence, my ass." So, Koumyou had known everything. Sanzo exhaled, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai was watching him. "I think maybe--"

There was a knock at the door, and one of the acting servants came in with a letter for Gojyo. He broke the seal and opened it.

"Well?" Sanzo was impatient.

"It's from Nataku." Gojyo handed the letter to Sanzo. "He wants us to meet him--after dark--at this location."

Sanzo stared at the letter.

"It's in a modest area of town." Gojyo tapped his fingertips on his leg. "I wonder why there?"

Hakkai raised an eyebrow. "You don't think he's setting Sanzo up, do you?"

"No." Sanzo ground his teeth as he said, "I think Nataku has some affection for Goku."

"You think he's protecting him?" Gojyo asked.

Sanzo nodded his head. "Yes."

"Then you'd both better go," Hakkai said.

"What about you?" Sanzo had a feeling he knew the answer.

"I'll be your backup."

Sanzo sighed. "You have black market nanos, don't you, Hakkai?"

"If you don't want to know, Sanzo, don't ask." Gojyo stood up, "Personally, I'm glad Hakkai will have our back."

Sanzo agreed but didn't answer. "We leave in two hours."

"Right," Gojyo said.

 

* * *

 

The night was cold and crisp, and Sanzo had a hood pulled tight around his head--his only disguise. He didn't change hair and eye color because he didn't want to alarm Goku when he saw him again. He patted at his pocket, reassuring himself that the nano-loaded chocolates were still there. He clenched his jaw and tried to prepare himself for what was coming.

Gojyo knocked, and after a few minutes, the door opened. A handsome man with long hair answered.

Sanzo squinted. "Sir Nataku?"

"Sir Sun." Nataku smiled and opened the door to allow them in. "It is good to see you again, though I had hoped for better circumstances."

"Is Goku here?" Sanzo didn't want to waste any time.

"He is, but he is resting at the moment, and I would like to speak to you before you look in on him." Nataku led them to a small sitting room.

Once they were seated, Nataku began, "My father found out about Goku's rendezvous with you, Sir Saurma. He was very angry."

Sanzo waited a moment while he collected himself. "How angry?"

"I am afraid--" Nataku rose and walked to the fireplace. "I believe you are aware of my history with Goku, as well as his lineage. My father is an unforgiving, unkind man. Goku and I--both of us--have disappointed him repeatedly. When I was married off, my father was relieved that I was finally of some use to him, but I disappointed him yet again."

"How?" Gojyo asked.

"My wife's family likes me. They do not like my father. And so, I am invited to events that my father is not."

"I still do not see how that is your fault," Gojyo said.

"Nor do I." Nataku eyes were sunken and red. "But my father is a vindictive man, and Goku has been made to suffer for my perceived misdeeds."

"Suffer?" Sanzo stood up. "Goku is injured?"

"Yes," Nataku said. "Gravely, I'm afraid. My father sent his men collect Goku--he'd heard that Goku was spending time at your home. Goku is headstrong--as I am certain you know--and he fought them. There were many of them, and Goku is not very healthy. They were far rougher than necessary. When he arrived, my father took one look at him and insisted the men take him away again, I can only imagine where. I intervened and brought him here. I had brought a doctor but--" Nataku shook his head.

Sanzo flexed his fingers.

"Currently, my father does not know Goku's whereabouts, and I would prefer it stay that way."

Gojyo said, "You can be assured of our secrecy."

"Take me to him." Sanzo's mind was racing, hoping that they weren't already too late.

As they walked, Nataku said, "Sir Saurma, I do not know how to begin to apologize for my father's barbarism. If I had known, I promise you, I would have taken better care of Goku."

The room was lit with only a few candles and smelled of blood. Goku didn't look as bad as Sanzo feared, but there was no doubt he'd been beaten. Bruises colored his face and chest, and one wrist was definitely not right. But the thing that Sanzo found most troubling was the amount of blood.

Goku had been bled--several lacerations marked the inside of his arm and a pewter bleeding bowl was nearby. The bedding was smeared with blood. Sanzo didn't have to have a medical scanner to know that Goku was bleeding internally. Sanzo felt sick.

Sanzo took off his coat and pulled up a chair. "Goku?" He touched Goku's forehead and felt him burning with fever. "Goku?"

Goku opened his eyes--one bright red around the golden iris. "Sanzo?" He tried to sit up.

"No." Sanzo pressed him back down. "Rest."

"What are you doing here?" Goku's voice was thin.

"Finding you." Sanzo's emotions raged inside him. "I am sorry. I am aware that this happened because of me."

Goku tried to smile through his cracked lips. "It was worth it. I would gladly do it again."

Sanzo cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. "I brought you some chocolate."

"Chocolate?" Even beat to hell and dying, the promise of food made Goku's eyes sparkle.

"Yes." Sanzo opened the tin with the chocolates. He leaned close. "Here."

Goku opened his mouth, and Sanzo popped in the chocolate. "It is very good. Thank you."

"That should help with the pain." Sanzo's voice cracked. "And it will help you sleep."

"Will you stay with me a while?" Goku's voice faded.

"Do you have to ask? Of course I will stay."

Goku gave him a faint smile. "I am glad."

Sanzo watched until Goku's breathing was deep with sleep. The chocolate Goku had ingested would not allow him to wake again. He would remain free from pain until he--

"Sleep, Goku, and dream." Sanzo held Goku's undamaged hand. "Until we meet again."

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Sanzo was still in Goku's room. Goku was gone, his fabricated last breath taken. Across the bed, in the other chair, Nataku quietly wept for his friend. Sanzo was numb, but still filled with a detached hope. They might meet again, as he'd said, or they might not.

Outside of the room, all hell broke loose, and he could hear people arguing. One of them was Gojyo. The door burst inward and the Baron filled the doorway.

What happened next was a blur for Sanzo. One moment there was a loud pounding in his head, and the next, he was sitting on top of von Touten's chest and pummeling him. In the confusion, Gojyo and Nataku had to drag Sanzo away from the Baron before the city guard showed up. As it was, Sanzo and Gojyo had to make a mad dash back to the safe house.

Once inside, Gojyo actually glared at Sanzo. "What the fuck were you doing? How can we take Goku back with us now? There's no way we'll be able to get near that house again."

Sanzo could taste blood--his lip was split. He sat down in one of the comfortable chairs and ignored Gojyo and his very pointed questions.

"Are you listening to me?"

Hakkai entered the room with tray. "Settle down, Gojyo. It's not as if we could march out of the house with Goku's body anyway. There are customs to be upheld. And even if we did attend Goku's funeral without incident, we still couldn't just walk away with the body."

"You aren't suggesting what I think you are." Sanzo turned his head and stared at Hakkai. "Are you?"

"Of course." Hakkai set a teapot down and wrinkled his nose. "Oh, my. Sanzo, I believe you need a shower."

"Shut up."

"Hadn't either of you thought about this?" Hakkai poured three cups of tea. "What else can we do?"

"But, grave robbing?" Sanzo accepted a cup of tea.

"Grave robbing?" Gojyo shook his head. "No fucking way."

"Well, what other option do we have?" Hakkai frowned. "Are you suggesting that we leave him?"

"No." Sanzo sighed. "What do we have to do?"

"Son of a bitch!" Gojyo threw back his head. "This kid is going to kill us!"

 

* * *

 

The clean scent of damp, freshly turned earth mingled with the sharp odor of decaying bodies and filled Sanzo's nostrils. He covered his nose with his hand.

Hakkai jumped out of the carriage and landed next to him.

"Can you see?" Sanzo narrowed his eyes and stared into the graveyard.

"Of course, Sanzo," Hakkai said. "Can't you?"

The overcast sky blocked out the moon and stars, and all Sanzo could see was darkness.

"Hold still." Hakkai stepped closer.

Sanzo felt a sharp, quick pain in his neck, as if a big bug had bitten him. "Fuck, Hakkai!" He slapped at the burning spot as Hakkai retreated. "What did you do?"

"They're night-vision nanos." Hakkai slipped something inside his jacket. "Among other things."

"What?!" Sanzo rubbed at his neck.

"I'm afraid I had to inject them; we don't have time for niceties right now."

"You know how I feel about nanos," Sanzo snarled.

"Quiet," Gojyo whispered as he appeared from the dark. "Are you trying to let every person in the country know we're here?"

Sanzo could already see him. "Which way?"

"They bury the dead together, and the fresh graves are this way." Gojyo waved Sanzo on. "The cold saved us--they haven't bothered to bury them yet."

"We're lucky he's buried here instead of in Vienna, where there are more vigilant watchers. The medical schools paid handsomely for the newly dead," Hakkai said.

Sanzo wondered about Hakkai's twisted brain as he followed Gojyo, picking his way over the uneven ground. He wouldn't say it, but he was grateful for the nanos. He spied a gaping hole in the ground. "Is this it?"

"No," Gojyo answered. "The servant's area is back here."

Sanzo followed until they came to another hole.

Gojyo handed the knotted end of a stout rope to Sanzo. "You find him, and we'll pull him up."

"Me?"

Gojyo and Hakkai nodded at him.

Sanzo sighed heavily and then propelled himself the short distance into the hole, loose dirt raining down on him. When his feet touched bottom he paused and considered how surreal the situation was. The burlap wrapped bodies lay there, askew and piled on top of one another--dropped into the hole at random and coming to rest at different angles. The smell was stunning and strange but not overwhelming. He suspected the nano cocktail he'd received contained an olfactory suppressant.

"Hurry up," Gojyo called down. "We have company."

Sanzo pulled the top body bag open. It wasn't Goku, but parts of it were moving. He pushed it to the side. The next bag he didn't even bother to open because it was too big to be Goku. The third body was an elderly woman. The fourth body was definitely Goku. Sanzo picked Goku up and placed him over his shoulder. He worked his way back to the earth wall.

He wound the rope around Goku. "Pull him up." Sanzo helped guide Goku to the top and then climbed out of the hole. It seemed painfully slow, but Sanzo was certain that it was only a few minutes.

"Someone spotted us. We need to go." Gojyo scooped up Goku, and they retraced their steps.

In the distance, dogs began barking.

"Crap." Gojyo stopped, panting heavily as he set Goku down. "The runt is heavy!"

"Perhaps you need to exercise more," Hakkai said as he rearranged Goku between them.

"Do you really think now is the--"

Sanzo could hear the dogs closing in. "Shut the fuck up and come on."

The three of them started to run, weaving in and around the headstones, crypts, and trees. Hakkai and Gojyo managed to keep Goku off the ground and avoided cracking his skull on the many impediments in their way. They really did work well together.

During the race back to the carriage, Sanzo considered their plight. He wasn't concerned about himself or Hakkai and Gojyo. If they were caught grave robbing, he was certain the council back home would manage to get them rescued. Goku was the main concern. The coma-inducing nanos would wear off in a couple of days, and without advanced medicine, Goku would die under six feet of dirt.

Sanzo would not let that happen.

He was glad for the night-vision nanos when their carriage came into view and doubly glad when he saw the two men standing guard with it. One held a torch. Fuck. He turned. "Stay here."

"But Sanzo--"

"Take care of him." Sanzo crouched down and ran, keeping himself out of sight of the men.

Behind him, Sanzo could hear Gojyo quietly swearing. Sanzo angled away from them, curving around until he was on the other side of the carriage. He hoped this worked.

He stopped and called out, "Hello there, I need your assistance!"

The men started at the sound of his voice and then hurried toward him. They looked to be officials and slightly confused at the sight of him.

One of the men, a large, grizzled man with a wicked scar on one cheek spoke first. "Sir, I must inform you that the graveyard is off limits at night, by order of the Count of Graz. You must leave immediately."

"Ah, yes. I see." Sanzo brushed at his jacket. "I'm afraid a close friend recently died, and I arrived too late for the funeral. I've only come to pay my respects, but I was attacked."

"Attacked, sir?" The big man stepped closer and held up his torch, examining Sanzo's filthy clothes.

Sanzo saw movement as Hakkai and Gojyo took their cue and scurried toward the carriage with Goku.

"Yes, I stumbled on some ruffians back there. They were pulling bodies out of an open grave. In my haste to get away and find help, I stumbled in the darkness and fell."

"There are others here?"

"Yes. Three of them." Sanzo pointed in the direction the dogs were coming from. "They were over that way--I can show you."

"Please, sir," the guard took another hard look at Sanzo's muddy clothing, "we would like to ask you a few questions while we round up your attackers."

"Whatever."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Sanzo started. The nanos hadn't forced him to say too many words or to be polite. Was it because the people before him weren't of the gentry? No, he didn't think so. The guards were staring at him, and Sanzo grappled with the appropriate speech. "What I mean to say is whatever course of action you feel would be best."

"Thank you, sir." They hurried off into the darkness.

The one Sanzo mentally referred to as the less stupid guard kept looking over his shoulder. They were even more suspicious of him now than ever. And when they came back empty-handed without a glimpse of Sanzo's fictitious attackers, there would be hard questions. He didn't plan to be around for that.

Sanzo walked toward the carriage. He pulled himself up next to Gojyo on the box. "Go."

"We'll look guilty if we just take off."

"We are guilty, dumbass. Go slow, and then if they follow, pick up the pace."

Gojyo snapped the reins, and the coach lurched into motion. "Whatever you say, _Master_."

"Shut up."

The horses, big and black, looked very fast. They were only walking now, but their steps were high and they looked rather spirited. Sanzo suspected Hakkai had planned for the possibility of a hasty getaway. Sanzo looked behind them. No one was following.

He exhaled. "What kind of nanos did you give me?"

"What nanos?" Gojyo kept his eyes on the road.

"Don't bullshit me," Sanzo said, his voice tight. "You're the only one I know who has connections to black market nanos."

"It's nothing. It gives great night vision, enhances your hearing, and mellows out eye-watering smells, that's all."

"And it negates all previous nanos?"

"A side effect." Gojyo grinned at him. "I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Exchanging one nano for another is not a positive."

Gojyo's grip on the reins tightened. "You're welcome, you ungrateful bastard."

Hakkai stuck his head out the window. "I believe we're about to be visited by some uninvited guests."

Sanzo turned. There were five riders coming at them at a full gallop. "Shit. Go!"

"Everybody hang on." Gojyo snapped the reins again, and the four high-stepping horses took off.

Above them, the clouds parted and a crescent moon lit up the road like a beacon.

Hakkai appeared next to them on the box, his eyes bright in the moonlight. "I fear we'll have to dispatch our pursuers before making our journey to the safe house."

"Be careful with your _dispatching_ ," Sanzo shouted over the pounding hooves and the rattling of the carriage. If his previous nanos no longer worked, that meant Hakkai's didn't either.

"Of course."

The party of guards moved closer. No matter how fast the carriage horses were, a single rider would be much more efficient. The coach bounced over a hole in the road, and Gojyo leaned to his left, tugging on the reins. The horses veered at the last moment, taking an unseen fork in the road, sluing the carriage to one side. For a couple of terrifying heartbeats, they were on two wheels.

Sanzo wasn't holding onto anything at the time of the turn and slid off the box. He grabbed the luggage railing on the top and embarrassingly found himself dangling from the side of the carriage. A rider took that particular moment to rush his advantage; he steered his horse close and tried to grab at Sanzo's legs.

That was a mistake.

Sanzo was angry. So far he'd been injected with illegal nanos, fallen down a hole, disrupted the dead, had made pleasant small talk with another human, and now he was hanging from the side of a fast moving carriage. He would not allow himself to be further annoyed.

He pushed his legs away from the coach and swung out. The jostling carriage gave him some added velocity, and he kicked wildly. Somehow, even with his poor leverage, his foot landed on the side of the rider's head, knocking the man from his horse. Unfortunately, the man's leg did not come loose from his stirrup. Sanzo winced as he watched the horse, heady with speed, continue along, dragging the rider off the road and toward the trees.

He didn't have time to worry about his would-be capturer. As he pulled himself back onto the top of the rocking carriage, he saw that they had company. Two men had managed to climb aboard the moving coach, and Hakkai was doing his best to handle them both. Gojyo didn't dare stop as there were two more riders racing along side. One paced them, almost close enough to join the fight if he had the nerve to jump. The other guard was a bit smarter; he was trying to grab the bit on their lead horse.

"Sanzo!" Gojyo shouted, tossing the reins to Sanzo before he stood up and extended his arm. Gojyo swung the carriage whip in his hand, and he struck at the rider who was pacing the box. The horse shied away at the sound of the snapping whip, and the rider fought to keep control. Taking exception to the rough treatment, the horse slowed and and tried to buck the guard off. The carriage rushed on, leaving the struggling pair behind.

Gojyo threw the whip to Sanzo and jumped to the top of the coach to help Hakkai. Sanzo sat down and wondered what to do about that rider at the front. He was getting very close to the lead horse, and if he managed to stop them, there was a definite possibility of reinforcements catching them. While Sanzo focused on his options, he failed to notice that the road was beginning to descend and deteriorate. Water, combined with time and hard use, had taken its toll on the road and the ride became increasingly rough. Twisted tree roots and deep fissures marred the road.

And some very large rocks.

Sanzo stared at the exposed slope of a gigantic boulder. "Oh, shit."

They were moving at such a speed that when both wheels connected with the impressive rock, the entire coach became temporarily airborne. During that moment of seemingly silent weightlessness, Sanzo idly wondered how much compression the axle could handle. Then the carriage landed with a violent series of bounces. Wood groaned and glass splintered with the multiple impacts, and one of the doors fell off, but somehow, what remained miraculously held together. Their breakneck speed continued as if nothing had happened.

As Sanzo's butt reconnected painfully with the bench, one of their pursuers fell next to him. The guard was dazed and had landed on his back with his legs still on the top of the carriage. Before the man could regain his senses, Sanzo twisted his body, lifted both of his legs, and kicked with all his might. The surprised attacker flailed with his arms, trying to find purchase and stop his motion, but it was too late. He sailed off into the darkness.

"Sanzo!" Gojyo shouted.

Up ahead, Sanzo saw a narrow passage between a dense clump of trees and tugged the reins, bringing the coach closer to the trees. The single remaining rider was forced to slow, and as he fell back next to them, Gojyo leapt off the coach and onto the rider. The two tumbled off the horse out of Sanzo's view.

Sanzo kept driving.

"Hakkai?" He shouted over his shoulder.

No one answered as Sanzo sped down the lane. He looked behind him and saw no one. He kept up the speed for another few minutes before he pulled on the reins, urging the lathering horses to slow. Once his thundering heartbeat returned to normal, he realized he knew where he was going. Directional nanos gave him signals in his head.

"Those bastards," he muttered as he stopped for just a moment, checking on Goku and finding him securely tied to internal structure of the coach. He was glad Hakkai had thought of that, because during the chase, the carriage had lost both doors and all the windows.

He continued on, heading toward the arranged safe house.

An envoy from the medical clan was waiting for him when he arrived.

 

* * *

 

Sanzo was sitting outside smoking when the moon disappeared again. Inside, the transport crew was reconfiguring the cube for their journey home. The medical clan's departure had tapped the transport energy dry. Sanzo's team would have to wait for recharge--that would be sometime the next morning.

Gojyo and Hakkai arrived riding one of their chaser's horses. Hakkai's head and Gojyo's arm were both wrapped.

"Where's Goku?" Hakkai asked.

"They took him."

"Who?" Gojyo winced as he slid off the horse. "The Meds?"

"Yes," Sanzo said.

"That's rather unprecedented, isn't it?" Hakkai touched his head.

"Koumyou must have told them." Sanzo inhaled. He felt dull and colorless. "I guess they want to get the re-education started right away."

Hakkai looked a little on the pale side. "But that process takes years."

"Yeah." Gojyo cradled his arm. "I feel kind of--I dunno--ripped off. I mean, I know the kid probably won't even remember us when he's done, but I would've liked to say goodbye."

"He was in a coma, dumbass," Sanzo snapped.

"So?" Gojyo frowned. "I would've still liked to say it, anyway. I mean, I have a broken arm and Hakkai has a concussion; I feel like we did all the eighteenth century grave-robbing and carriage escaping for nothing."

Hakkai frowned. "I agree."

Sanzo didn't answer, but he felt the same way.

"Hey, Sanzo." Gojyo leaned close and checked Hakkai's eyes. "How much of your life do you remember from before?"

Sanzo shook his head. "Very little." He remembered the monastery and a couple of the monks, but just flashes, nothing substantial.

"Me too." Gojyo straightened and slid his arm around Hakkai's waist. "Most of what I remember is the minutes before I died. Tied to the stake and waiting to burn to death."

Sanzo remembered watching hundreds of monks slaughtered and the sword coming at his head. "Yeah."

"Not mine," Hakkai's voice was thin. "I remember everything. Goku might be like me, especially since we're the same age going in."

"Are you okay remembering? Doesn't it ever bother you?"

"No." Hakkai wavered a bit. "It's like remembering a dream."

"Well," Gojyo said as he steered Hakkai toward the house, "we'd better see if any of the medics are still hanging around."

It started to rain. Sanzo finished his cigarette and followed them inside.

An hour later, Hakkai and Gojyo returned. Gojyo was carrying two dusty bottles and three glasses. "I took the liberty of wandering through the house, and I found these."

"Is it alcohol?" Sanzo was dully interested.

Gojyo opened one of the bottles and poured a bit into a glass. "It's cognac."

Sanso held up one of the glasses. "And don't skimp."

Hakkai dozed on the elaborate couch, while Sanzo and Gojyo drank in silence.

After some time and several glasses of cognac, Gojyo asked, "Were you always interested in music? You know, before you were re-educated?"

"No." Sanzo's cigarette had burned out and he hadn't even noticed. "I was taken as a child of philosophy."

"Really?" Gojyo laughed softly. "I can't imagine you in the philosophy clan."

Sanzo grunted in agreement.

Gojyo crossed his ankle over his knee. "I was a thief. Hakkai was in training for a medical profession. None of us ended up doing what we were doing before."

Sanzo lit another cigarette. "I know."

"What if Goku decides--"

"He's alive." Sanzo watched the glowing end of his cigarette.

"Right." Gojyo poured himself some more cognac. "You're right. That's really all that matters."

"Besides," Sanzo looked out the window of the mansion. The moon was back and it was still raining. "You're still a thief and Hakkai still has a weakness for sorry human beings."

"Hey! And you're still a philosophical prick." Gojyo gave him a lazy grin. "I guess what you mean is that even if he doesn't choose our clan, we'll probably see him again."

"Maybe."

"I always wanted to play music," Hakkai said as he sat up.

Gojyo moved to sit next to Hakkai. "Me too."

Sanzo remembered chanting with the monks. "Huh."

"Goku loves music, we know that." Hakkai took Gojyo's glass and sipped. "Mmm, that's wonderful cognac."

Gojyo looked guilty as he poured himself a new glass from the nearly empty bottle. "I packed some to take home. I placed them in the chest, right next to a three-volume copy of _Philosophia Naturalis Principia Mathematica_ , and several vials of healing herbs."

Sanzo took a drag on his smoke and scratched at his eyebrow.

"I guess we'll know in time, won't we?" Hakkai sipped at the cognac again. "A few years at most."

"But even if he does choose the music clan, he won't know us." Gojyo settled back into the couch again.

"I think Sanzo said it best, earlier." Hakkai smiled. "What matters is that Goku's alive."

Gojyo held up his glass. "Here's to being alive."

They clinked and then drained their glasses. Sanzo realized that Koumyou had been right; this trip had been the experience of a lifetime.

 

* * *

 

The following music season was one of the best Sanzo had ever participated in. The orchastra had played several of Goku's pieces, to the delight of their audiences. Hakkai and Gojyo were both acknowledged as leads in their sections.

Sanzo had kept himself very busy, throwing himself into his job, living the music, and dreading the end of the season. When it came, he'd learned how to play new instruments, and had even traveled again to meet Bach. Of course, he'd had to have feature-altering nanos, but it was good to lose himself in the fiction of being someone else. He'd not considered that before.

Sanzo was working on a new opera. His previous one, finished right after his return from the eighteenth century, had received surprising accolades and had quickly become a favorite. No one had been more surprised than Sanzo. Koumyou had commented on it, mentioning that Sanzo's approach had contained a softer, gentler touch.

Hakkai and Gojyo had kept their comments--if they'd had any--quietly to themselves. Currently, they had barged in, unwanted, and disrupted his work in progress.

Sanzo glared at them. "What do you want?"

"We're here to remind you about the small gathering tonight," Hakkai explained.

"No."

"You can't say no." Gojyo grinned at him. "It's a party celebrating Koumyou's return."

Sanzo exhaled as he remembered. He would have to go. Reaching for his cigarettes, he asked, "What time?"

Gojyo nudged Hakkai's arm with his elbow. "I told you he wouldn't come unless we reminded him."

"Six-thirty is best. We'll have some drinks and appetizers, and hear some of Koumyou's adventures." Hakkai was staring at a wall. "Did he bring that back for you?"

"Yes." Sanzo lit a cigarette and glanced at the Edward Hopper café scene. Bold colors filled the canvas, drawing in the eyes and giving the impression of afternoon sunlight streaming through a window. "Koumyou rescued it from a building about to burn."

Hakkai turned. "And you have a Toulouse-Lautrec? Very colorful additions, and unusual for you."

Sanzo shrugged. "Something had to go on the walls."

Gojyo took a step toward a bookcase and tilted his head up. "Is this a Moebuis?" Gojyo looked down. "Look, Hakkai, he has a rug, too."

Hakkai raised an eyebrow. "Extraordinary."

Sanzo stood up. "I'll be there at six-thirty."

"Are you throwing us out?" Gojyo frowned.

Sanzo opened the door.

"Don't forget, the party is 1960s period dress," Hakkai said as the door closed.

Sanzo sighed and queried the computer about what to wear.

 

Sanzo showed up at six fifty-five wearing sunglasses, a forest green Nehru jacket, and a pair of brown bell-bottoms. He felt stupid, but after his stint with seventeenth and eighteenth century garb, he was certain he could put up with anything. He clutched his guitar case and knocked.

Koumyou opened the door. His hair was in a long braid, and he was wearing tie-dyed t-shirt and a headband. "Hey, man."

Sanzo clenched his jaw and stepped inside. "I thought you were going to visit the big band era, not Woodstock."

"A change of plans, man." Koumyou smiled. "I decided I wanted to meet Nina Simone, and I ended up involved in the 1960s Civil Rights movement. Some great music came out of that time."

Sanzo rolled his eyes. "Yes, but not exactly considered classical or baroque, is it?"

"Yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Koumyou took the guitar case from Sanzo and set it near the other instruments. "Let's get a drink and do that now."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

Sanzo followed Koumyou to a makeshift bar in a back room. Gojyo was mixing drinks and flirting with the other guests. Hakkai was nowhere in sight, probably in the kitchen cooking. Koumyou retrieved two beers and then motioned Sanzo toward the balcony.

The stars were clear and bright, and the air was cool and clean. On the horizon, the moon was setting.

Koumyou set down his beer and then produced a pipe. "I'll be resuming my duties as head conductor again."

"Huh."

"Not surprised, are you?" Koumyou leaned on the railing and lit his pipe.

"No."

"It's a lovely night, isn't it?"

Sanzo lit a cigarette. "Huh."

"This means you'll have to resume your position as second conductor." Koumyou took a drink of his beer.

Sanzo had been temporary head for almost two years--but he had only been temporary. Not much in his life would change. He stared at the stars. "You're certain this is what you want to do?"

Koumyou laughed. "Yes, you don't need to worry about me. Besides, I think you'll be very busy soon enough."

"Hmm."

Koumyou turned and faced the glass doors, watching the party inside. "There's already a full house. Hakkai promised me he wouldn't invite more than twenty."

Sanzo exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Hmm. I wonder who that is."

Sanzo lifted his beer to take a drink as he looked over his shoulder. His hand froze. "Goku."

"Ah, so it is."

"What--"

"He finished re-education a few days ago."

"And," Sanzo's mouth was dry, "he chose the music clan?"

"Did you ever doubt it?" Koumyou chewed on the end of his pipe. "He went through re-education very quickly. I'll be taking him with me back to the twentieth century for his internship."

Sanzo's hand itched. "I could take him."

"Could you? To the twentieth century?" Koumyou hummed. "Since I'll be resuming my duties, that would help me out."

"I'll take him, but not the 1970s." Sanzo crushed out his cigarette but didn't move his gaze from Goku. "Maybe we can visit Duke Ellington and Count Basie."

"I suppose that would work."

Sanzo walked toward the glass door as if he were in a dream. Behind him, he thought maybe he heard Koumyou laughing, low and soft.

Inside Goku was leaning on the bar, talking to Gojyo.

"Sanzo." Hakkai appeared at his shoulder. "You see our special guest."

Sanzo nodded.

"It was Koumyou's idea to not tell you. I thought--"

"Does he remember?" Sanzo asked.

"No." Hakkai sighed. "Not yet, anyway. He stared at Gojyo and me for a long time, but--"

"I'll be in charge of his internship."

"Koumyou said you might--"

Sanzo started walking again. He didn't stop until he was next to Goku.

Gojyo was mixing a complicated drink. He winked and smiled at Sanzo. "There you are. Sanzo, have you met our new apprentice, Goku?"

Goku turned. His eyes were wide and bright as he held out his hand. "It's good to meet you, sir. Koumyou says you'll be my mentor in the twentieth century."

"Did he?" Sanzo took the offered hand, and when they touched, Goku caught his breath. For a moment, time rewound itself.

"I think--" Goku was blushing when he released Sanzo's hand. "I believe that you and I will get along fine."

"Yes." Sanzo grabbed another beer and tried to hide his smile of relief. "I believe we will."

 

End


End file.
